The Call to the Light
by TheOneAndOnlySlayer
Summary: Ben Solo, formerly Kylo Ren, and Rey travel through space to Jakku, a month's journey. They continue to improve each other's training, but under the surface their desire for each other grows. Oh, and they prepare to kill Snoke. Sequel to "I Need A Teacher." The grandest of Reylo burns
1. Chapter 1

The Call to the Light

Chapter 1

"Aren't you a bit boyish-looking for a whore?"

Rey is seventeen (she thinks) and standing in a tent outside Niima Outpost. Unlike every other day of her existence, digging through dirty old ships and crawling into her hovel to eat and sleep, she's taken care of her appearance tonight. She may not be dressed in finer clothes with any color besides that of the sand, and there probably _is_ still sand left in the curves and crevices along her skin. But what she lacks in finer wares and fine-smelling cleanliness, she owns in her unabashedly youthful appearance. Her face has fine lines and, if she would just stop scowling for thirty seconds, there'd be a softness about her.

Staring at the man sprawled in a chair, scruffier than herself, like he was born from it, Rey thinks of what exactly to say. She's shed some outer layers of her only outfit. The outer sash she's draped and wrapped over her chest is gone, to show the curves of her breasts, as are the wraps around her arms. The skin there, as well as from her collarbone, gleams (she hopes) from the lamplight.

Rey has come up with nothing of any value for three days. She's starving and was forced to steal water for the first time since her adolescence, when she didn't know any better. They had branded her for that on her arm. For doing it the second time, fate hadn't given her a break. She got caught – by this broken-nosed, glassy-eyed grub – and now –

…and now. Now she's paying the price.

Squaring her shoulders, reminding the humanoid fella that she could hurt him again, Rey replies coolly, "Don't see you've got anything better around here."

"Says you," he drawls like they're hovel-mates. "I've had my nose halfway up a Trillian's snatch a few hours ago. She, at least had some nice meat on her bones."

"She was probably saggy and had you do all the work."

The humanoid actually cracks a smile. The sound in his mouth is sticky and warm, almost like old oil. It's a low laughter, something Rey hasn't heard for so long that she compares it to a predator's purr.

It's absurd. All of it. She's seen how womenfolk around here are treated – if they don't do anything of value, if they look a little too pretty, if they even look _not too ugly,_ or if they're generally in the wrong place. She's seen one poor alien tied outside a shop, naked from the waist down and sitting on some rug for some passerby to rut with, if he bargained the right price.

It chilled Rey when she first saw it, knowing what exactly that female's fate entailed. It had made more sense from that day forward to bind her breasts a little tighter and hide her hair until she looked sexless and plain.

People on Jakku are cruel. Males are usually the crueler of the sexes. Unkar Plutt is actually decent, but that's because he can afford to be. Rey's lucky she hasn't been completely raped or mutilated just by looking at them funny.

This man, though.

Rey shifts uncontrollably at his lingering stare. Though his face is more tanned than hers, with brown-black hair (like old oil again) and indecipherable lines along his face that could be scars or wrinkles, he has blue eyes. Blue eyes, in a human, never mind any other alien she'd seen before. Rey has seen in a reflective surface that hers are brown. Shocker. _His_ are brighter than the sky.

If Rey hadn't resented him for catching her at their water trough, she'd stare at them all day.

But it's a ridiculous thought and she's reminded of how his arm seized her entire person in a vice, and threw her into his tent to size her up. He could've dunked her head in the trough to drown her like last time years ago. He could have _had_ her, legs spread and privates bruised…. and that had almost happened before.

No, he'd just shrugged, given her a slap, and kicked her out the doorway with a brusque "on your way."

Maybe he won't pay for shit for her. It's true; she's awfully bony. She's more on the frail than lean side this season, and she's tired from the walk up here.

"Look, you wanna do this or not?"

The blue-eyed fella leans over for his cup and ignores her for a minute.

"Let's not rush things, luv," he muses. And that's the other thing – he's got the same accent as hers, a strange, glinted lilt that makes everything sound less harsh, guttural. "You haven't even mentioned your price."

Ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

"Rey. Wake up. We're about to drop hyperspace."

On the other side of the duel cockpit, Ben Solo, once the proud and fearsome beast Kylo Ren, speaks to Rey. They spent the last 16 hours flying through the black.

Rey feels a trace of drool from her mouth and is thankful the seats face away from each other.

"Yeah, all right," she yawns. "Kelado, right?"

"I'm searching for a place to land now. Based on – "

"Hang on, I got it." Rey fumbles for a datapad near her where she stored coordinates. Leaning the pad behind her for him, she says, "Plug these in. I know the place, we'll go unnoticed here."

Ignoring how odd he sounds taking orders or asking questions, Rey waits for the man to grab the datapad and punch in the numbers.

They sail into the atmosphere and wait for the rocky red terrain to swallow them. Globelike, catacomb structures hang from jagged edges. Like a soothing reprieve, the chill from space breaks finally. Rey shivers in shock as the warmth from the very thermal planet seeps into their little fighter.

Though it's against her intention, Ben feels Rey's sudden comfort like a wave. He has to hold in his breath, but he feels himself go slack from the unexpected pleasure.

Shaking his head, Ben severs the flood of sensation and focuses on the terrain that soars past them.

"You haven't been here before," he reminds his younger companion.

"No," says Rey, "But there are people who can help us trade in this fighter for something more comfortable."

She doesn't say more than that. The space in their cockpit is too small for an escape from his still-existent temper. If he knew the real reason why they came to Kelado, he'd flip.

Deftly, Rey directs their little craft far from the amber-lit city. The clouds hang low and offer some cover as they get closer to their location. She switches a few controls and they slow.

"Dampen the frequencies, Ben. I'll find my way around."

Behind her, Ben sniffs and does as she suggests. They're still far away from the attention of the First Order, or even the Resistance. This is still technically the Outer Rim, but they have to try their best and remain discrete. The people they're about to shack up with don't want the kind of attention a Jedi apprentice and a defected Knight of Ren attract.

"Can you open up a channel," Rey says as she swings through the navy clouds, feeling for any obstacles through the Force.

Ben flicks a switch from overhead. "Careful, there's a – "

"I see it," she cuts in as she steers away from a weather radar.

"Channel's open," he tells her.

Rey brightens on instinct. "Hey, strangers, care to let a group of tired pilgrims in for the night?"

She changes her accent to basic, just like Ben's, for the transmission. He turns in her direction quizzically. Before he can ask, the transmission buzzes. "Hey, there, pilgrim! Come on out back and we'll see what we can do!"

The voice is male, older but very homely.

"I'm trying to find your house, but it's too dark to tell," Rey adds in a strangely lax, girlish tone.

"We'll leave the front light on for you, you can't miss us."

Five minutes later, Rey is docking the fighter deep within one side of the canyon. It juts out past the gap until it overlooks a flat plane of hard ground, not quite like a desert.

This is the home of Boshtar Webb, a retired podrace manufacturer and occasional smuggler. Rey had saved his son a few months ago when the First Order bombed the shite out of a Resistance hideout in some village on Vardis VI. The Webbs have extended an invitation for Rey, whenever she needS it.

The only problem is that they don't know Rey is a Jedi.


	2. Chapter 2

The Call to the Light

Chapter 2

"Ben."

The man behind Rey sometimes tries very hard to deserve that name. The connection to it, to be honest, sometimes isn't there anymore.

"They don't know…who I am, exactly," she says to the space between his headrest and the window. "I mean, I will, but I just thought…"

"All right," he concludes. Ben has already shed his outer robes and belt so that he can pass off as normal in his simple shirt, pants and boots. No one knows what Kylo Ren looks like thanks to the masked helmet, so despite the nakedness he feels at his exposed face, they've earned enough discretion.

Then again, Snoke could have broadcast Ben's face to every First Order channel to hunt them down.

They climb out of the cockpit with protesting muscles. The hanger space is carved out of the rock, and a metal door whines open to reveal a bearded and balding white-haired alien. His round shape is covered by deep purple robes. He's a Nakorkian, with slits for nostrils on his forehead, two pairs of inky black eyes and two pairs of spindly arms.

Boshtar Webb extends all four of them. "Welcome, welcome! Bria Kellig, in my humble abode!"

Bria. Bria Kellig. Ben moves his lips as small as he can (he knows how long his mouth is, thank you) to remember this name. But what's his?

 _Benji_ , Rey quickly supplies like a bell in his head. _Pick whatever last name you want, I'll pretend I don't know it._

 _Why are we –_ Ben begins, but Rey is halfway over to their kind-looking, clueless host.

"Mister Webb, hi," she continues in her fake, cheery, un-Coruscanti accent. It's startling how quickly she's dropped it. "It's so nice to finally meet you!"

The two embrace as if they have been neighbors for years and are only reuniting. Ben hangs back awkwardly, feeling very out of place. They hadn't discussed the details in coming to this location. Leaving the planet they'd hidden and recovered on after Uncle Luke's death had been, unexpectedly, difficult. As one of the more colorful pilots had said before the whole group departed into two parties, the honeymoon was over. The rest of the Resistance, including Ben's mother Leia Organa, and Rey's close friend Finn, were reuniting with the command.

Getting around was strictly Rey's control. Ben could not gain help from any First Order connection, and certainly none of his former Ren comrades would hide them. He knew he would begin to feel distinctly helpless while the girl organized their trek across the galaxy using all of her connections and skills.

"Ah," said the portly alien, pulling away from the embrace and looking intently at Ben. "And you've brought a young man with you. What's your name, my boy?"

 _Boy_. He hasn't been called that by anyone, ever. Not even by Snoke, and no one presumed to talk down to the son of Leia Organa Solo so cheaply.

"Benji. Benji Hodar." He strides over confidently and offers his hand.

"Very good, son. Come on in. I've got supper waiting for you. I hope you like thermal-raised succulents. My daughter's cooked them herself."

The alien rambled on as he led them inside. The planet boasted so much geothermal energy that Ben could feel it, almost hear it like a radio. Rey glanced back at him with a spare, _everything all right?_ look, which Ben was quick to wave off.

They would eat, rest, then be off again for another flight.

Sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

"My son will be disappointed, you know."

They're halfway through dinner arranged by Boshtar's unmarried daughter, who's left them to eat alone in another private room. Rey brings her intrigued gaze from the private room to the alien.

"Why's that? Oh, wait, don't – "

"Well, he's talked his mouth over being rescued by some darling humanoid in some First Order officer's uniform, only to find out she's a spy on Krakkauer! Then," he adds jovially. "Then she calls ahead while he's off on some mission, and comes with an equally charming humanoid – " he lingers while gesticulating to Ben, who predictably fidgets (even if Rey's the only one who can see it).

"Oh, um," she tries to rescue the two of them. "Well, we're not, you know – "

"I'm sure it's only a matter of time before she slips in bed with me, Mister Webb," Ben interrupts.

Rey's jaw slacks at the comment while the Makorkian drops his fork, which clatters enormously in the intimate space.

"Bah! Well – Hahaha! Oh, Benji, you're a doll, aren't you something. Well," he says, dabbing his four eyes with a napkin. "Oh, dear, you are smooth. We all need to be careful from you."

Hm, it does feel too intimate suddenly. "Benji" casts a wary eye over to his traveling companion, then pushes his chair out.

Rey watches him remove something from his lap – the napkin. Oh. Right. That's where it's supposed to go. She'd pushed it away from her plate and hadn't touched it, choosing to lick from her fingers once in a while. Kriffin' idiot. And him, the bloody cultured prince.

"It's been a long night. I should turn in. Thank you, Mr. Webb," Ben says with the slightest nod in his head like it was a bow. "For your hospitality."

Rey blinks at the outright charm coming from the man who's imprisoned, attacked and mentally tortured her. His raven hair shrouds the outline of his face, and in this informal dining space he commands the entire room.

The Makorkian appears more taken with him. "Oh, Benji, my boy," he replies gently. "You are too kind. Anything to stick it to the First Order, even if it means offering a _bed_. Or two."

Next to him, Rey watches Ben's face for a flush. He retreats with another nod in time and wishes them goodnight.

The father of the foot soldier Rey had rescued on Krakkauer unashamedly watches her companion's retreating form. "Is he…you know, yours?"

Swallowing carefully at another bite of food, Rey wonders if they should start posing as brother and sister instead.

"Um. Not – no," she settles. "We're – " kriff, she almost dropped her accent. She almost forgot she used it around Boshtar's son, Horner, when she got the codes to the First Order's detention facilities and released Resistance fighters and miners from the nearby village. "I'd rather not say."

"Ah, of course." Boshtar leans out and signals for his daughter to clean up. "Well, if you wanted to take a look before heading to bed, it's down below."

Rey thinks about this as she awkwardly watches the Makorkian girl pick up plates. She gently hands the four-armed girl her own, with the utensils neatly on top. "Sure. I'll want to get started on getting it prepped for tomorrow."

They head down one level into a second hanger bay, where Boshtar's secret wares lie in wait like a treasure room. Rey doesn't notice the three-meter tall green marble statue of some nude woman, or the tank filled with hundreds of swimming gold-producing jellyfish. There are two other ships in the hanger, but the _Millennium Falcon_ attracts her sole attention.

Sighing heavily, cleanly, like the release of finally coming home, Rey whispers, "Hey, big girl. I missed you."

Sssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Ben finds a change of clothes waiting for him on the sleep-couch. They're simple, a pair of charcoal gray breeches and a dark blue-gray shirt long enough to tuck in. He's worn black for so long he looks doubtfully at the innocent favors. Next to them, though, is a warm layered waistcoat in the preferred color.

He's so tired he could collapse in the bed he knows will not be long enough for his frame. He'll shower in the morning. There's another cot next to his. It made Ben hesitate when he first walked in the spare room. He'd rather suffer another night with salt-stained, irritable skin and hair than become more vulnerable around her, should she come in while he's in the 'fresher.

He takes off his boots and stretches. Each move feels luxurious for his grand, restless form. He yawns and pulls in a greedy amount of air. The warmth in the atmosphere is such a contrast from the ocean planet he'd been rescued to, and Starkiller before that.

By the time he feels ready to sleep, he's spent 30 minutes in a handstand with all the furniture levitating in the air. He'd much prefer to run, or practice his combat, or something.

Rey's nearby, but he suspects she's enjoying her personal space as much as he is.

Removing his shirt, he traces his fingers along the scarred cuts he's inflicted himself. The need for them is less desirable. He thinks he's stable, better off now. He'll certainly have more trouble making more, if he needs it, being so close to _her_.

Ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

The whole night, Rey goes through the _Falcon_ : sorting through the controls, the hyper compressors, combing over the hull with a welding tool for any blaster holes she may have missed. She's slept for maybe ten minutes every hour on the compact flight, and with a warm, full meal in her belly she's alive with activity. Even the bunk room she's made her own, Spartan as it is, could use a little cleaning up.

Ignoring the reaction Ben Solo may give tomorrow, she decides to make the interior more Jedi-friendly: the main lounge area has been cleared of spare tools, water tanks and generators so that if they decide to practice combat, they'll have room. There's another spare bunk room Ben can claim for himself. For safety's sake, Rey will leave Chewie's bunk closed off.

ssssssssssssssssssssss

In the morning Boshtar prematurely leads Ben out to where Rey's packing some extra rations on board. She feels a little uncomfortable taking so much from this man. All she's done is unlock a silly door, and he's stored a well-recognized (to certain circles) ship for her.

When she sees his tall form, made more lanky and youthful in his new clothes, she stops in her tracks. He freezes, too, eyes suddenly tight with recognition.

Rey puts down some box and goes over to him. "It's all ready for – "

"No. No, absolutely not."

Rey's anticipated this and pushes away the impatience. "Why not."

"Don't be ignorant, Rey, it just makes you look unashamedly stupid." His voice is tainted with betrayal.

Rey's jaw drops at the sudden barb. Is he serious? Rey may have anticipated this reaction from him – it's his father's ship. He probably left his toys in here and even learned how to walk through the halls.

And isn't that ridiculous: a waddling, fleshy baby Ben giggling and gurgling while a younger Han lazily trails after him.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he demands. "We were in a ship for almost a day and you never mentioned why we came here in the first place."

"Probably because of how you'd react," she shrugged, suddenly not caring at all for his pissy mood.

Ben scowls, tightening his fists. "I'd rather waste away in the fighter. You can go in that death trap if you want, but I'm not wasting my time trying to… _please you_."

"I'm not – _what_ \- ?!"

"Are you planning for me to call this place home again?" he interrupts icily.

"Get over yourself, it's a bloody ship." She stomps away and up the ramp, but then turns around suddenly. "You're being a baby! Would you rather Chewbacca be here, and not me? I'm not going anywhere with you without getting to use a refresher as much as I damn want to. And you and I need enough space to ourselves. AND we don't have enough money to get another."

Okay, that's a pointless argument. They're Jedi, they could easily steal one.

Too bad, though; she's already retreated back into the hall. But damnit, she's already forgotten what she was doing.

"And one more thing!" she says with her finger pointed out. The last of it, though, dies on her lips.

Ben's cast a hesitant eye upon the ship. He looks dreadful, like the ghost of Han Solo will come out to greet him. Rey knows enough of ghosts – she's met Ben's grandfather, Anakin Skywalker. Though Han Solo cannot be a spirit of the Force, she should have been less bullish to Ben about boarding his father's prized vessel.

She sighs and tries again in a softened voice. "It's just a ship."

Ben doesn't appear to hear her. His Adam's apple bobs in nervous defiance.

"I'm leaving in an hour." She stomps back down because she realizes she's not done with him. And she left her bags beside him. "You can come and take my bunk and pretend you're not here as you meditate your head off."

Leaving him in a huff, Rey strides back in and lets the familiar damp, metallic smell calm her. It's her home, if he still refuses it. She misses it badly, and with Finn not here…

No Finn, or Poe. No Jess. Not even Leia, Chewbacca, BB-8. Luke. Anakin. Just him.

A chuckle rises out of her. He can't be half as decent a pilot as her. He's fought so hard from such an early age to avoid his father's legacy, from charm to flying a ship, that he probably couldn't last two days in the fighter on his own. Plus, when he was Kylo Ren, she seriously doubted he was piloting that sleek-looking thing, the _Finalizer,_ all on his own. Probably had some Stormtrooper do it.

When she does start the engines, and the second hanger bay doors open to reveal the clear daylight, she senses his somber, dense energy from down the hall.

Strapped in the pilot's seat, she turns to see him carry a bag of new personal items. He stares at her with a quiet resolve that says, _please shut up and let it go._

The fearsome Kylo Ren. Willing a girl three-quarters his size and strength to not pinprick his pride.

"'Fresher's ready, if you want to use it," she offers flatly. "The second room's yours if you want it."

Turning back to the window, Rey eases the thrusters and guides the _Falcon_ out to the air. She senses the thanks in her head as he retreats.


	3. Chapter 3

The Call to the Light

Chapter 3

It's all dark until he sees a fire in the sand, at night. There are people in several circles around it, genuflecting and humming. There's a certain scent in the air, a sharp coolness that's almost frosty, mixing with the remnants of scintillating heat from hours ago.

Ben's been here before. He just knows it, but like an itch he can't discern its origin.

He looks around. He feels weighed down from something. When he walks, his boots and clothes are crisp, his outer robe free from the salty stench from the sea planet, Sher-hadda (whatever Rey had named it).

When he looks outward, his gloved hand is suddenly seized by something.

On the ground is an alien with a large narrow head. He lows pitifully. Under the arm that's grabbed him is a large, cauterized blaster wound.

 _Come back_ , he suddenly understands the alien say.

Ben shakes his head. Something else pulls at his robes.

He doesn't exactly scream, but he flinches at the sight of a white-haired old man; Lor San Tekka, the man he had cut down with his own cross-guard saber.

"Come back, Ben," he says. Deep red, dark as mud, shines from his neck and head.

He's breathing heavily through his nostrils, unable to project his fear. His own hot breath surrounds him in a claustrophobic manner.

His mask. Force alive, he's wearing his mask.

He is Kylo Ren again.

 _No!_ he feels himself say, and he jerks about to shove the damned thing _off_ his head.

It won't come off.

"No," he murmurs.

Something vibrates in his head, swimming like a sickness underneath.

 _Come back_ , the voice, female and despondent, sobs. _Please come back!_

Ben is blind with panic. He cannot sense anything beyond that claxon cry in his head. It's so strong…it is a whisper from a galaxy away.

Unconscionably he is bent on the floor, where fallen, seared corpses of the dead, all over the sand, rush at him. All he wants is to claw out the voice wrapped in his skull.

Kylo. Kylo Ren.

This time, another voice emerges, male and deep, birthed from a cavern, from embers.

He knows this voice from the holovids. It rattles his bones. He looks up, his arms held back by those he had (ordered) killed.

The shape is nothing more than a shroud at first, but soon enough Darth Vader's unforgettable face hovers like a god over Ben.

Years ago this would have been Ben Solo's calling. Now, the fear and regret bulk in his veins until he can choke.

 _Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck…!_

Through the receptor in his helmet, his desperation is projected. "That's not me anymore."

"Isn't it?" Vader's imperious timbre replies, almost cocking his head.

Ben already knows what is coming next. He deserves it. He doesn't even look away.

It's what he's wanted, craved. His side, and all the other scars he's given himself to solidify his wickedness, freeze and burn at the furious red ray of saber light.

He bares his neck for the awaiting killing blow.

sssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Ben realizes he is asleep when he first hears the alarm.

He's heard it before when he had snuck onto the _Falcon_ and his father had piloted it in a half-assed escape. The hull had been hit, or something. It shook him more than it should have, making him think…

The panic coming from the only other person on board pierces his attention.

Rey. _Rey_!

He throws himself out of bed and barrels down the hall.

"What is it!" he bellows.

"We're being followed!" she shouts back, her tied hair moving erratically as she seizes the controls. "I didn't see them, I never sensed them!"

 _The other Ren Knights,_ Ben hurriedly realizes as he absorbs their positions. Three First Order cruiser vessels, flanked by a dozen TIE fighters. The nearest system isn't for a few days – how did these ships just manage to catch up to them without either Jedi sensing them?!

"I'm at the gunner," he shouts back as he runs to the little alcove down below.

 _What an imbecile._

Ben skids to a halt, unable to believe….

It's Snoke.

 _How - ?!_

 _Turn around and watch._

Ben cannot rush back. Honest, genuine fear, deeper than bones and marrow, stamps through him. He measures every step as miles back to the cockpit.

Rey will be all right. Rey will be alive.

Rey is suspended a few inches above the ground, still, almost angelic in the way she looks asleep.

Ben is rigid. He does not dare blink, move, breathe. If he does – she – can't – CAN'T –

SNAP.

Ben hears it. He hears it all the way into his heart, a drum, an explosion of a planet, a burst of Starkiller's power, but he cannot believe it.

Her neck is bent and it lolls carelessly. Forcing back a wave of bile, Ben knows nothing else to do.

Her neck has snapped. He's heard it. It happened so fast, but he's seen it. She's -

"Nnnnnooo," he whimpers. It is so pitiful and disgusting a sound he doesn't recognize it as his own. Knees weaken and sink to the floor. Rey's body – so slight, so young and strong – hovers still. Waiting.

It is too cruel. She's dead and he's too faint to touch her, to bring her down from Snoke's phantom hold and embrace her out of failure.

"Rrr – " he can't. His voice is gone. Bubbles of sobs burst through, making his ribcage heave uncontrollably. He shivers. "R-rey…!"

sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

All of a sudden his face is hot and wet. He is alone in the spare room, blankets clumsily around his legs, his back and rear end aching from the thin mattress on the metal floor. Stumbling to his feet, Ben gasps, groaning, to exorcise the horrible dream. He digs his palms into his eyes, trying to just calm down. He feels so sick he wants to throw up his heart.

 _Is she alive._

He must go to her. It's not enough that the Force is telling him she's in the _Falcon_ breathing in a room next to his. He has to know – that she's all right. He has to _see_.

Her presence pools from the door. He paws at it worriedly, feeling for the little switch that will make it ascend quieter than with the regular switch.

He watches the metal sheet fly up and steps in, carefully, covering his presence with mental shields. It takes a second to see how the room is arranged, but then he finds her – on the cot, legs stretched out under a thin blanket, stomach down, arms and head cradling a ratty pillow.

Her hair's down. It spills all over her head until all he can see, even in the dark, is her pert nose and half of her cheek.

Sagging in relief, something inside him lurches. She looks so _young_. It's startling. He's older than her by almost ten years. Oftentimes she's the one with a heavy, intense maturity that it depresses, confuses and offends him. But looking at her, this stubbornly hopeful, bullish girl-woman, makes him want to keep her this way forever: shuffling in her sleep like a careless teenager, and this is their home on some planet.

Ben hasn't sensed Snoke since that secret planet. He has known since his escape that his old master could find him anywhere if he does not carefully cover his Force-signature. The focus on Rey in his cast-off visions, however, accurately weaken him.

If Rey is not in this universe with him….he has no one. Not even his mother. He has no reason to live, no reason to call himself Jedi.

He takes a brief look at the room. Remembering that her last long-term shelter was a trashed-out AT-AT walker, he realizes that making a space her own really means something. The personal furnishings besides the cot, shelf and work table include a glittering blue water lamp, like her lightsaber, and a purple meditation rug.

Feeling like a sneak all of a sudden, Ben casts one guilty look back at Rey, pausing to make sure her form rises up and down in a healthy, deep breath, then closes the door behind him.

Feeling utterly alone, fighting off a terrible desire to wake her up and force her to keep him company, like he is a child all over again, Ben returns to his room and tries to find some peace.

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

"We haven't talked about where we should go yet."

Rey looks up from her bowl of juga oats and freeze-dried berries. For the whole morning, Ben hadn't acknowledged her presence beyond a curt nod in her direction. Through his messier shield of hair, his face was pale and wrecked. She reasoned, feeling awkward, that he was still upset with her for lying about the _Falcon_.

 _He's killed people. He's killed kids, probably. Stop worrying about his feelings._

He had sat down next to her, finally, after an entire minute of standing around awkwardly in the main cabin.

"I guess not," she replies with a shrug. "I wasn't sure if we were supposed to hide and do more Jedi training, or…I dunno, help out the Resistance somehow."

Ben looks up from his knotted hands. "Help out?"

Her shrug is even more pronounced. "Yeah. I mean. Blow up some communication tower. Steal some supplies. Act like spice pirates and raise all hell in the name of freedom, justice and the republic." She says this in the hope that he will just smile a little bit.

Ben sniffs in mild acknowledgment and looks around the cabin. "That's quite an ambitious plan for a two-person crew."

"Come on," she snorts as she scrapes the last of her breakfast. She counts three berries left. "We're aboard the _Millenium Falcon_. I'll be Chewbacca – I probably shave as often as he does, between the two of us."

When she sneaks a look at him, she sees his tongue hooked over one of his teeth, as if he is holding himself from openly laughing.

Why is she trying so hard to make him laugh? She senses he's sluggish. He's not exactly closed himself off with mental shields, which is normally an obvious sign that something's wrong, but his mood is very murky. More than usual.

She'll get nothing from him if she asks if he's all right. "What was your plan?"

Ben waits, as if she will scold his proposal. "I think…we should go to Jakku."

Those three still-frozen berries are halfway in her mouth when she hears that word. She forgets that the spoon lingers near her face when she stares him down. "Whyyyy?"

It's more suspicion than chiding, but still, Ben almost folds in on himself.

"I – " he shakes his head, black hair curtaining his half-scarred face. "It's a complicated reason."

"Complicated, really?" she goads.

Ben's fingers curl into his fists, awaiting a fight. "I'm - ! I'm not sure you would understand."

"It was my home for fifteen years. I would understand something. Come on," Rey demands, snapping to her feet as he prepares to turn away. "What is it?"

He looks more like an actor than a reformed Jedi in his civilian clothes, the way he holds himself in imperious restraint.

"I saw something. It was…a dream," he finishes lamely.

"There are plenty of desert planets out here. You sure it's that one?"

"I saw the people I killed. There was a village. And a man…I knew who he was. He knew my family. I ki – I cut him down. It's Jakku," he affirms.

Rey senses the plea behind his firm tone and attempts to reason, "Jakku is about a month away from here. We're practically outside the Outer Rim right now."

"Well, then, it gives us plenty of time to train, doesn't it?" he says with fake confidence.

Rey tilts her head. "Ben. Why do we have to go back?"

"I'm not sure." He sounds so honest that maybe something's wrong. Rey knows better than to push. She's afraid to ask what exactly he saw, besides….besides killing someone.

Force. What a messed-up person he is.

She gets back up, partially relieved they now have a purpose besides hopping around the galaxy and avoiding conversation.

"I'll…go set a course. I'll let you know once I've got something."

"Thank you," he tells her. It makes Rey want to turn around out of instinct, but she fights it and heads to the cockpit. Yikes. When was the last time he's said thank you?


	4. Chapter 4

The call to the light

Chapter 4

Aside from plotting a course to fucking _Jakku_ , there isn't much to do. Rey's fixed her lightsaber, adjusting the circuits after it got dunked in seawater a few days ago. The _Falcon_ has been examined all from the night before at Boshtar's. She senses Ben's deep in meditation, so fumbling around and making noise won't improve his dark mood. Neither will practicing forms. That might actually cause him to join her, and she doesn't want her arse to be handed to him just yet.

She's cleaned her room. She's eaten. She's brushed her hair and teeth. Now she's sitting with her feet propped up on the console as the stars whiz by. It's understandable how hyperspace can get boring.

Four weeks. Four weeks to Jakku for Force knows why. Rey is only partially comfortable with _not_ knowing the exact reason why Ben wants to go back there. But maybe she should be more persistent. They _do_ have to work together.

Her eyelids flutter closed, just for a moment. Four weeks, then hopefully no more than a day back on the planet she was banished to for fifteen years, and on their merry way to…to…

Ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

 _Ten months ago:_

 _Streaks of vibrant yellow whir past Rey's head. Luke is holding only one training lightsaber, but he moves so fast that it looks like there are two or more in his hands. The man's in his mid-fifties!_

 _Kriff, Rey thinks as she watches her footwork over the rocky slope. Her legs and arms burn from the hour-long (HOUR. LONG.) fight. She can't be sure of the point of this exercise, other than that a Jedi fight ultimately ends in death. Or lost limbs._

 _No – in the case of the great Luke Sywalker, Empire-breaker, Rancor-slayer and all around badass, battles don't have to end with lost limbs._

 _She's been good and patient. Extremely patient. She's kept her brain shut about wanting to show him just what she can do to protect herself. She's dealing with a real Jedi here. Her victory over that prick Kylo Ren may have gained a wave of confidence for the Resistance, but after…after Luke mournfully told her of the violence resting in her past, she's spent more time on this island questioning whether she deserves her role as a Jedi trainee._

 _Fighting used to be a personal win if she wasn't robbed or beaten, back on Jakku. After the smiles and unexpected praises on the Resistance base, it became an unexpected source of approval, of making friends._

 _It's strange how in the past few weeks she's understood how fighting can be a bad thing, something to avoid at many costs._

 _Clash! Rey's holding back a powerful overhead assault from Luke, holding her blade at a horizontal parry. His gray, lined face bores into hers._

" _Concentrate on the moment," he near-growls, making Rey think that he's equally tired._

 _She huffs, blowing a strand of hair from her face. "When do we stop?"_

" _When one of us says 'stop.'" Luke's eyes are impossibly blue, reminding her of someone she once knew, but with less fuzzy eyebrows._

 _Rey senses it, actually senses it with the Force ("I did it!" she'll say later) the second Luke tries to swipe her feet with his own leg. She steps around until she's almost behind him, legs locked around each other._

 _Their sabers get tangled and they have to spin away. Rey's got an opening. Now Skywalker is the one closing on the cliff. Rey advances, saber at a resting attack formation._

 _Luke watches her and rolls the saber in tight pensiveness. A few feet apart, they gather their breaths for a short reprieve._

 _It's too obvious of a defensive position. Luke's a powerful master and Rey's always fought with desperation, never cleverness._

 _The Force tingles around her, wanting to be tapped. In the rush of the moment, Rey has repeatedly closed off, tightening out of concentration. Luke has reminded her that it's_ there _for her, not a distraction._

 _She calms. She senses it like rivers of water and wisdom around her._

 _Shields have to be placed so Luke cannot anticipate her plan. She pounces, angling the saber low at his feet. The man leaps into nowhere, until Rey's hair flurries, and she knows he's somersaulted right over her._

 _Good._

 _His attacks are stronger, forcing her to move back to the edge of the cliff. Against her wish, Rey is reminded of that horrible first attempt to swim, with Luke trying not to laugh as she sputtered out spit, saltwater and snot._

 _He kicks her shin suddenly, and she buckles. Danger seizes wildly at her and she braces herself as her back hits the uneven rock._

 _Oucchhhh. At least her hands still grip the saber._

 _She scrambles to her knees just in time for the older man to strike her blade. Rey will buckle eventually. This position's absolute shite on her knees._

Give it a minute.

 _This move might be super dangerous, she thinks with her shields dampened against Skywalker. However he's shown her he can definitely take care of himself against an eager beginner like her._

 _She gives the last reserve of strength into a final push, her saber singing against his. Luke's eyes burn blue._

 _Feeling for the switch, Rey turns off her saber. One hand has already moved down to grab at his robes in case he actually does sail over the cliff._

 _But of course she's too late._

 _Shades of gray brush past her eyes._

 _She gasps, "No!"_

" _I'm all right!" he tells her. He's not even upset. Is he impressed?_

 _Rey blinks, staring at her master from over the cliff. She has to believe what she's seeing, because otherwise…but no, that's definitely Luke, smiling at her in the middle of the air._

 _He returns to the ground and holds out his blade, which had tumbled halfway to the sea. Rey's not even sure how high up they are, but the foam looks small from here, like lace on a dress._

" _Sorry. Sorry," she repeats. That was a stupid move, re really could have died just now._

 _When Luke looks back up at her, his eyes are bright, but…eager. She senses an inner excitement in him that makes her hesitant to smile back._

" _That's an impressive idea, Rey!"_

 _So, a few months later, Rey attempts it again when she fights – and kills – one of the Ren knights_

sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

When Rey wakes, her lower back is sore from the terrible position. Though at least Ben doesn't catch her napping at the controls when he strides in.

Well, he tries to. He still has to duck into the cockpit.

He surprises her when he actually reaches under and hooks one hand under her crossed ankles. It's so intimate that it's folded into a careful archive of past moments he's touched her (though this one didn't involve water).

"Didn't anyone teach you to be civilized?"

Rey noticeably flinches. He's touched the skin on her ankles, just by a little bit. His hands are so large and warm.

"In a place like this? No," she comments cooly. "I forget how to use napkins."

"I've noticed," he adds.

Hm. He sounds relatively harmless now. He must have done some emotional purge for _hours_.

Then, the quiet sinks in. Uncomfortably.

"When was the last time you practiced your forms?"

Rey thinks guiltily at the memory, about three or four days ago. He was shirtless….and she had debuted her brand-new saberstaff to him.

She lolls her head hesitantly at the doorway. She straightens into a less sloppy position to explain, feeling the laser-focused glare from him. "It's not that I don't need it, I know. It's just…I dunno. There's no room, really. And I know the two of us: we'd tear a hole through the ceiling in five minutes. Besides, is that all we're going to do in here? Check the course on the star map, eat, exercise and sleep?"

"You're a Jedi," Ben enunciates sternly. "That's all you need."

Rey snorts in displeasure and looks away.

Ben searches inwardly to continue the subject. He looks downward, his sooty lashes brushing his pale cheeks. "…We need to talk about our plan to kill Snoke."

Guilt and something else Rey can't explain settle inside her. Practicing forms suddenly does feel important now.

She sits up and turns her chair to face him now. "All right."

"I've been thinking. You may not be able to do this on your own. It should be me and you together." Under Rey's intrigued hazel gaze he goes on. "I know him, and your powers are great. We can do it. Let's practice on force communication."

Rey absorbs the keen interest in Ben's face. He looks genuinely eager about what they've avoided even talking about, a Force bond between master and apprentice that he suddenly attempted on her back on Sher-hatha.

"You mean, read each other's thoughts? Like, faster, in combat?"

"Against a master like Snoke, we'll need everything. My uncle once told me that, long ago, his own master, Obi-Wan Kenobi – you've heard of him, I see," he notes at Rey's sudden alertness. "He and his own master, a human named Qui-Gon Jinn, battled a Zabrak Sith. That Sith had the same saber design as your quarter staff."

Rey nods. It's where she got the idea from, thanks to Anakin's detailed account, but she doesn't admit it yet.

"Their movements were very combined, but nothing compared to when Master Kenobi and – my grandfather battled together in the Clone Wars."

Rey watches with warm interest at how Ben seems to come alive. He hadn't talked like this when he first began to teach her about how to defeat a Sith. Granted, her newfound studies were a little dark, and Ben was initially reluctant, being entrusted to strengthen her mental abilities. She wishes he could have shared pieces of his own Jedi upbringing with her.

…Even though he killed all the others learning about the Force.

A painful lump forms in her throat, making her blink. Oh, Force, this man – this dark-haired human who was becoming so close to Rey – was a mass murderer. And she…Kriff, if her eyes were wet, he'd notice – but thankfully they weren't.

She's such a horrible person, wanting him. It's a basic attraction, nothing more. She doesn't love him.

Ben interrupts her thoughts with a nod to Rey's sword. "May I see it?"

Reaching to her side, Rey hands it over without even thinking. She's more curious than anything what he thinks.

He inspects it with full interest. His voice becomes softer, almost…friendlier. "I remember you showed me you grew up with a staff."

She knows with a warm trail down her spine he's referring to the memories she shared for him. "It used to be a baton. I'd lash a strap around my wrist ever since that fight with that girl. It worked after that. Then I just screwed more parts on it until it was almost bigger than me."

"A grand weapon for a slight little thing like yourself," he admits with what cannot be mistaken for admiration, even underneath that jab. "You must have made yourself into a predator."

Rey disagrees. Ben's the real predator, all size and incredible control of his body. He is elegance and dignity combined, like a king. "I wanted to train with a sword, with Luke. It looked real nice and…graceful," she realizes, "the way he fought with one." She won't add the way Ben fights, too. She's jealous, honestly.

"But you have more power and throw all your enemies off-guard with something like this."

She cocks her head at a small realization. "It doesn't make you think that a Sith who once had a double bladed sword like this is something to concern you? I mean, that I've copied it?"

"No." Ben shakes his head in quiet finality. "I'm not as foolish as the Old Jedi Order."

The Old Jedi Order. The one Anakin Skywalker broke down, all for love. She is sure of this, when he told her and when Luke confirmed it, more or less. If the order of Jedi Knights allowed others to marry and feel love, even have families, the Jedi wouldn't have been so…

Rey considers the way Ben still criticizes the Order he's trying to re-identify with as she stares at the ceiling.

"You agree with me," he assumes from her silence.

"Hmm, no," she ponders. Then, with a cocksure smile she adds, "I would never give you the satisfaction."

She doesn't have to turn her head to see the kind shadow angling his face, where he hides his own discrete smile. She does, anyway.


	5. Chapter 5

The Call to the Light

Chapter 5

Ben circles Rey as she sits in the main cabin and meditates. Ben towers over her so much that it's ridiculous.

"You were attacked in the mind. It was flooded with terrors. You need to strengthen your barriers." His voice is subversive and hypnotic like the lull under water. "Confront those active sensations head-on, like an opposing battering ram. An equal but opposite sensation is happiness. True, enriched happiness in the purest form. Focus on it until Snoke doesn't know what to do with it."

 _Instantly Rey falls back into a moment, vibrant and true, where she, Finn and the same handsome dark-haired pilot Ben's seen before are laughing their heads off at something. The handsome man attracts all the attention in the image, while Finn has nearly fallen off his chair and Rey's face is crinkled in a near-permanent smile. Ben feels a twinge of envy. He watches intensely like he wants to remember this all his own._

"Now think of another one. Quick."

 _Ben is there when Rey remembers the first time she ate mooja, a traditional Alderaanian delicacy. Ben is a little shocked to see such a complicated dish being served in a Resistance mess hall. It bursts in her mouth, which Ben feels tenfold, and she groans her approval. His mother Leia, who sits across from her, chuckles expectantly._

He swallows. His mother is kind and tender to Rey, the daughter Leia had quietly desired. "Again."

 _Grime covers Rey/Ben like jungle mucus. Rey is proud of her first day of work (she's nothing but a child here) and…earning an extra ration of foodstuff: a fresh liwi fruit. She doesn't realize until later that the overseers tossed it to her to tease her like a pet. To the hazel-eyed child, Rey almost finds some accomplishment making the day a little brighter amidst the dry, barren land._

"Agai – "

 _It's there before he finishes: the first time she levitates a pebble, starts a flame on a candle, after weeks of fruitless concentration._

 _The sheer joy she felt in taking a 'fresher…water sluicing off her skin, her tired soul blooming like a lily._

There's no explicit image of nakedness, but Ben drops the projection immediately.

 _So does Rey: running into Finn aboard Starkiller, and later, seeing him awake, after months of training with Luke on some green island, and walking via a projection from Artoo._

 _Resting on Finn's shoulder and falling asleep. Overhearing him say to someone, "No, it's not like that. She's like my sister, you know? She's family."_

 _She makes a doll on Jakku, a child again, and she plays on the AT-AT. The stars look down on her like they're watching her play._

 _The sheer, stupid hope she feels as she scratches a little mark on a rusted wall._

 _Poe flashing a smile and her stomach doing flip-flops._

 _Han Solo giving her a smile and the same thing, in fact, the same sensation –_

Ben rips his head out of hers and scowls.

"Good," he concludes. His head is swimming with ache. Too much this time, like when he was a boy and ate too much for supper. His eyes, his mind couldn't resist each projection, even the emotions. Happiness, real happiness, dribbled into his head like a thick lather. It's wrong that these are not his own sensations, and yet he craves the swelling of light and fullness, and freedom, in each period.

He shouldn't pursue these memory exercises anymore. They've become – they've always felt so invasive. More than that, he wants to see more of her. Kylo Ren would have savored exploring every facet of her past in hopes of finding her weaknesses. Now it's a confusion of desire (not for her, he corrects himself) and self-loathing that makes him feel tired.

Ben finds himself basking in the light, the goodness in each brimming moment, wanting to step out of the observing angle and shield her in her moments of doubt and despair.

"Let's step away from these for now," he suggests with a too-light tone. "You're right, it's too dangerous to practice combat in mid-flight. Let's land somewhere private and have a break."

Rey jumps to her feet. The promise of fresh air and soft ground are too heady to ignore. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"We're well outside the Outer Rim, still. Just for an hour, and then we'll continue."

The smile she flashes at him is so beaming he can't believe it's directed at him. "All right, then," she says by way of thank you.

Ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

They land on a grassy knoll, on a planet that is mostly uninhabited except for flora and fauna. They fight for forty-five minutes, using all the space available like a grand playing field, lunging and somersaulting to their heart's content. Rey's soul expands like the approaching golden sunset, brilliant and joyful that Ben finds himself distracted, his grip on his uncle's saber uncharacteristically slackened.

He has to bite his cheek and tongue whenever she smiles toward him, ever playful in their combat practice. They exchange jokes, taunts and reminders of past maneuvers from Utapau, Kegan and the Star Destroyer _Defiant_ …from when they tried to kill each other.

He tries not to think of the sickening dream from last night, of this young woman's head lolling, broken. It means nothing. It is just a result of his mental exhaustion and confusion over where his fate lies next.

How can it possibly happen, when she is so fiercely alive around him?

When they finally tire and declare each other temporary winners, they put away their sabers and collapse onto the grass. For now, cabin fever has been fought off. Ben returns to the _Falcon_ and comes back with a jug of water. They pass it between each other like it were a bottle of wine and watch the sun transform the sky from fine pink to brilliant, ocean green.

Sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Of course, the bliss doesn't last. The interior of the _Falcon_ feels less homely to the two occupants now that they're continuing into the black. They spend dinner in choked silence, as if aware that the past touches they shared today are clear reminders of the forbidden vision Rey accidentally revealed to him.

It was a dream from almost a year ago, weeks after Rey first arrived on Ach-To. They were fighting in a forest, and Rey, in the dream, kissed Kylo Ren. Rey had blamed it on a basic form of attraction. No way could there be a sudden lapse in their relationship from exclusive enemies, forever linked in battles between the Order and the Resistance, to…lovers.

But now, after Luke Skywalker's plan to rescue Ben and return him to the Light side actually worked, and Rey and Ben have admitted a sense of respect and civility towards each other…she doesn't know anymore.

At least _she_ doesn't feel so wrong about it. The man next to her is the one who acts so obstinate and repulsed by it: kissing her.

She won't bring it up again, ever. Maybe it won't ever become anything. Maybe it was just some extremely vague interpretation of their working together, of bringing Ben back into the Light side of the Force.

Looking at the other Jedi, Rey knows they've both worked hard to have earned this placid compliance with each other. They have a responsibility to each other now, as the last possible Jedi alive for a long time.

Her thoughts are broken as Ben restlessly sets his utensil into the bowl. "I think I lost my appetite already," he murmurs in his deep tone.

Right as he stands up to the trash compactor, Rey says in her clipped accent, "Don't waste that."

Ben pauses, surprised at her command. In another second he understands the reason why she glares at the bowl with stern interest.

He stares back at the meat and vegetables, his mouth suddenly dry from the imagined sensation of knowing only stale bread and the sparing reprieve of water. In their memory sessions, Ben's felt his belly shrivel up in the way Rey's starved on Jakku. He never thought water could taste stale, either, but he knows now, how Rey will glaze her eyes over a leftover cup of water, much less a river.

He throws a pinched look in her direction, remembering the first time he met her and how small, almost feral she was, dancing away from him like some wild animal. Hunger was a scar that had never left her, even though in her time with the Resistance she's sharply appeared healthier.

He offers the bowl to her, then says, "Not that you look like you need the extra helpings."

His ego soars at the way her jaw drops. "Are you serious?" The "o" of her mouth twitches into a smile, as if she were to say, _clever bastard_.

"That's how people turn into Hutts, you know." He settles back into his chair.

"What, finishing the food they want to eat for dinner?" Rey sounds incredulous.

"It's what my mother used to say to me all the time. I'd come in and load up my plate until it was a small pyramid and then she started scolding me."

When he looks back up, Rey is leaning her hover-seat out to a full 45-degree tilt, reaching with strain to a shelf where there's an extra helping of food.

She does this for about twenty more seconds until Ben has to levitate it down _for_ her.

Against Rey's burning face, Ben shakes his head, incredulous. "Do you honestly have days where you forget you're a Jedi?"

Rey's protest is at the tip of her tongue, but it's useless articulating against him. He stares at her knowing he's right.

"Sometimes, yeah," she settles.

"Unbelievable," he says, shaking his head. "There is a special kind of hell I'm stuck in."

"Don't let your ego hurt the way out of your arse," she yells behind him as he walks to his room. She's not sure if she's being playful, or if he'll treat it as such. Just as she swivels in the chair she finds herself flying five feet out of it. She waves out her hands to cover herself from sprawling onto the ground.

 _Prick_ , she thinks.

Ssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

A combination of exhaustion and boredom have sent Rey into a deep sleep. She was meditating before, attempting to sense Finn and Poe, but the vast distance and the hyperspace are too much to reach them. The whole practice fight has left her body tingling with real, healthy tiredness.

When she dreams, she goes back into the past. An older man, lean with corded muscles and a beaten face, looms into the foreground. It's been years since she's last seen, or thought of, that face. The strongest features are his blue eyes and smug glare. And, perhaps the most bewitching impression is the hot, molten feeling from between her legs.

Rey is probably twenty-one and hasn't been touched by a man in a long, long time. She takes pride in the fact that, except that one time in all her desolate years on Jakku, she's never had to resort to selling herself like some livestock animal.

Rey had been seventeen, starving, and willing to do anything for food and water. Though it was a loss to her snagged remnant of self-worth on that barren planet, the encounter between her and the man could have ended in many worse ways.

No one knows about it, not even Ben. Luke may have seen a slice of an image, but he had _never_ asked her about it. No one would understand.

Since then, the significance of sex hadn't risen until she had barreled off-world with Finn and BB-8, aboard the _Falcon_. Finn's unorganized but earnest interest in her hadn't been ignored. Well, she hadn't thought about it in-depth until Rey had been alone on Ach-To for too long, and suddenly Luke had told her he and Artoo had a surprise for her.

When the first image of Finn moving and talking came through, despite the poor holo-reception, something clear and colorful had burst through her heart. She wasn't sure if it was just the shock and relief at seeing Finn recovering from near-death. In between lectures and discussions about the relationship with the Force, shared with an old man and his ghost-father, Rey had secretly stowed away the idea that, maybe, things could be different with her. Her and Finn.

It never happened because Jessika Pava had swept Finn's heart, wholeheartedly.

Rey was only a little disappointed. Mostly, she had projected self-doubt in her own looks compared to a bronze beauty like Jess.

Poe had saved her from any insecurity when he first flirted with her. Thank goodness he is her friend, and that she wasn't so innocent to mistake it for anything more, but it did bolster something in her. She is a woman, after all, lithe and robust in her own way.

And then, of course, because they were all in a war, all of that silliness mattered less, in between dying youths and explosions. And a cold, cruel man in a mask, and a tragic, tender face.


	6. Chapter 6

The Call to the Light

Chapter 6 complete

"I've been thinking."

Not even an hour later, and Rey's returned to Ben's side.

He realizes that countering her comment with a jab at her ability to think (at all) is an immaturity he cannot succumb to.

"Go on," is all he says, eyes on a datapad.

"I have an idea about what we should do."

She waits until he sighs and looks at her fully.

"There's a lot of…crime out here," she begins.

"No."

The argument she had neatly assembled in her head crumbles at his dismissal. "Hey, I haven't even explained yet!"

"Whatever it is, it's risky and causes attention to ourselves, which we can't allow."

Blinking angrily, Rey steps forward. "Wait – you tell me we're supposed to go to Jakku for Force knows why, you won't even tell me, and I make a suggestion on how to spend the next four weeks and you dismiss it like that? Who died and made you captain?"

The former First Order killer instantly pales, making Rey swallow.

"What did you just say?"

"Look," she begins, "I didn't mean that – "

"Your desire to interfere in all matters of the galaxy will get us both followed and destroyed. The only mission you and I have in this war is to destroy Snoke. That is our single purpose, and nothing else."

"Not to me, you inbred," she retorts. "I plan to do more good than just kill one person."

"Between the two of us, _I'm_ definitely _not_ inbred," he points out with intensity, leaning forward until he blocks the light. "Children born from incest are usually left alone to die, you know."

Her eyes and teeth gleam in false humor. "Funny. _You're_ the one obsessed with your Skywalker bloodline."

He scowls and retreats further into the ship.

"Look, there's a lot we can do out here," she says at his heels. "There's all kinds of organized crime, like drug and spice trafficking, pirating, _slavery_ ," she hints knowingly. "I'm not talking about _helping_ criminals, you know – "

"I can imagine the possibilities," he mocks nastily, moving some of the furniture back. "Give presents to poor children, build a school – "

"Earn your redemption?" she hints. "You can't possibly think that, just letting all these bad things happen, is the Jedi way? Sounds a little too much like how the Old Jedi Order did things."

She's goading him into saying yes. Rey needs him to get angry. She won't spend another day in this ship just talking about how to do the greater good, not when there are people who are like her, like Anakin, Luke and Han, who were left out of the shade of the Republic to protect only themselves.

Ben is still. He might actually be thinking about it.

"No. Absolutely not."

Rey's jaw drops. "Why not?"

"It's too dangerous, Rey."

"We won't be recognized out here," she tries to reason. "We could cover our faces – "

"Rey. Let it go," he warns slowly.

"Look- stop! Come on." Pleading now, she reaches out and grabs the fabric on his elbow. She won't actually touch him, especially when he narrows his eyes at her. "I'm tired of waiting and being asked to hide. I need to _do_ something. Finn and Poe always got to fight while I was held back to...deal with you," she says lamely. "Don't you want to do something good? You can't just try to earn your redemption from being my teacher."

His pride seethes at the idea his destiny is tethered to her. He sets down a table, switches a magnetizing switch bluntly, and sternly holds out his hands. "Get us to Jakku first. That's all that matters right now."

Disappointment echoes like a heavy stone in her head. He isn't having it. He's so stubbornly blind to the bigger picture here, out in the farthest civilized corner of the world.

Her hand drops from clutching his shirt.

"I can't wait that long. You know what – ?" she decides suddenly, back straightening at a burden lifted. "You can take the _Falcon_ to Jakku. I'll set off on my own."

Ben seems to deflate and swell at the same time. "With what?" his voice clatters in the room. "Why are you so desperate to become some vigilante? Our destiny lies with Snoke – "

A hideous laughter breaks from her lips. "'Our destiny lies with Snoke.' Fuck him, all right? His sorry arse can wait. You still sound like his errand boy, the way you tie yourself to him."

Ignoring the stifling emotions ready to burst from him, Rey scratches her head. "You owe it to your family."

She's so angry at him that she won't even clarify who, specifically, in his family. She knows, since Luke confided he didn't tell Ben about Anakin's birthplace as a slave on Tatooine. Leia and Han had strictly ordered Luke not to talk about Anakin. To them, especially to Leia, Anakin was always Vader. It's possible Ben had found out as Kylo Ren – but then again, maybe Snoke didn't allow it. Kylo Ren worshipped Vader. Such humble and filthy beginnings could work wither way to the Sith's godly status.

This time Rey retreats to the cockpit, again. _Gods and stars_ , she thinks, slamming in to the pilot's chair. She doesn't think she can take another day of their arguing. He still won't explain to her what's on Jakku. Ever since they boarded the _Falcon_ , it's been a struggle to be _polite_ enough to form some plan. If only Leia, Luke – or even Anakin – were here.

Well. Maybe Anakin could.

"Anakin, Kohn-deesa, mesh-pardu," she groans, willing the image of Ben's grandfather, the bronze-haired young man to appear. But that would be too easy for a Force-ghost.

Ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Another unbearable hour later, and Rey stands up to stretch. It's late and she's on her way to her room. They've got another eight hours to go before dropping out of hyperspace to refuel at a discrete spaceport.

When she turns around, she sees something – a stylus – float in front of her. Her abilities are quite grounded, so it's not her by accident. The disturbance in the Force zeroes in on her, and she knows it's coming from Ben.

She's careful not to rush to his room, but concern runs a little warm in her chest. The last time she sensed he was hurt was an awful scene – he had stabbed himself in the side, and above was some too-real vision of Kylo Ren.

She undoes the switch to his room, hesitant. He'll kill her for coming in.

Everything, from a datapad to a few cups, even the blanket, floats. As soon as she steps inside, they all begin to shake.

On the floor, Ben's snowy, shirtless back arcs. He lets out a sound so sudden that Rey jumps.

Swallowing, Rey creeps closer, pushing away the floating debris until she kneels at his side

"Ben." She says softly. Her hand hovers nervously over his shoulder. She's had to touch his skin before, but – she doesn't want to.

She has to, though. She settles for a little shake on the shoulder. "Ben, wake up." It feels so wrong to be here. She waits as long as she can before saying again, "Come on, something's wrong."

In another blink the skin and muscles shiver. Ben Solo's flipped around in a defensive position, grabbing at her.

Rey's seized forward, suddenly too, too close to his agitated face. Sweat makes his night-colored hair stick to his forehead and cheeks. His lips are inches away from hers, and his eyes – he looks as if he's seen someone hurt.

When he exhales hurriedly, his breath comes out in nervous fumes, clouding her nose and even her eyes. His fingers flex around her wrist, realizing she's right there.

" _Rey_."

And that's what does it; the random touch that makes Rey's stupid mind jump to some fiery, desirous instinct. He's so close and wounded by something that he refuses to let her see, and she's here next to him right now; why won't he let her _see_ –

She just wants to _help_ _him_ –

 _Instead she is blinded by fire, red-hot and punishing, searing anything in its path. Is it Starkiller? His old lightsaber?_

 _And beyond the light, probably more horrifying, are the screams. They are endless, a head-splitting cacophony of raw noise and spoken pleas._

It's torn away in a second. Like she is a hot brand, Ben swiftly lets go and moves away.

"What are you…?" He tries to mask the movement by sitting up properly.

This, alone, is what makes her shy and cower; this unnatural impotence from him that isn't hardened by stubbornness or sternness. "I know. I-I'm sorry. I didn't know – "

"Get out," he prompts without emotion.

Rey does want to get out. She doesn't want to see him like this, shirtless and vulnerable.

"I…what _was_ that?" she finds herself asking instead.

Their argument from an hour ago is forgotten. She leans into the mattress and feels his think scent condensed in the threadbare sheets.

Like a switch, his slackened guard is gone. His barriers snap into place and he sharpens with cold eyes and a hard mouth. "Do you have any idea what you're doing? Throwing yourself at me like some starved child?"

Rey's mouth goes dry, but she doesn't recoil. "I'm not doing anything," she whispers.

All of the things in the room clatter to the floor, making Rey grit her teeth in shock. As if her presence is a burr, Ben gets to his feet and snaps the falling blanket out of the way.

"You need to…I need you out." He stomps away, off the mattress.

"Do you…do you always see that? In your head?" she asks, concerned. No wonder he never shares his own mind in their memory exercises. She had initially dismissed it as a choice based on her sake, so she wouldn't hate him, but now…now, seeing him so pale and lost, so tormented, she thinks for maybe the first time, how hard it is to be _him_.

"For Force's sake, just go!" he almost bellows, pointing to the door. "I can't have you here!"

The Force crackles madly around him. His hands hover by his head as if it's about to roll off his neck. Rey is utterly perplexed, feeling almost as helpless as her…her friend looks.

Something that's been bothering her returns in the small room. "Why are we going back to Jakku, Ben?" When she speaks his name, it's with the hope that it will pierce the cloud that unsettles him.

"I don't…I don't want to talk about that now," he mutters, lacing his fingers over his head and pulling.

" _Why_ are we going to _Jakku_ , Ben? Just tell me," she implores.

"Why won't you just _shut up and leave me alone_?" he hisses nastily, teeth gritting like fangs.

Rey is speechless. He's repressing; from all they have worked for on Sher-hatha, sitting next to each other on the beach, coaching her how to hold her breath under water, him holding her after learning that Jess died, their easier conversations…he is struggling like on Starkiller, barely keeping himself upright.

"I have to find them," he tells her, the trace of a whine lacing through so that he is begging. "I have to go back and…I don't know, there are just answers and I HAVE to answer for - !"

He halts in his half-mad explanation. Watching him, Rey remembers the way she found him bleeding in his cell from a self-inflicted wound, and a manifestation from his own consciousness of himself dressed as Kylo Ren. It was so powerful a vision that Rey had to curse it away.

Everybody will want him dead. Rey once did, too. It had taken a lot of convincing from Luke, the only one besides Leia, who could still forgive him immeasurably for all of his crimes against life.

She's horrified to feel _herself_ shaking, her throat tearing like she wants to whimper, too.

"Okay," she says shakily. "Okay. Um. I'm…going to get you some water. Just, take a deep breath, all right? Ben. Ben," she says, keeping her body language harmless, her connection in the Force subdued and tranquil for him to feed on.

"I'll be right back."


	7. Chapter 7

The Call to the Light

Chapter 7

She shuffles out of the little closet-room and sorts through for some clean cups. It looks more inviting to have a cup for herself. When she comes back, he's hanging by the doorframe with a shirt on (thank kriff), breathing in and out like long, forced sips.

"D'you want to sit here?" she gestures to the table.

When he approaches, she ignores his clenching fists, his thick veins flexing from his skin.

"I'm. I'm sorry you – "

"You don't have to apologize," she cuts in quickly, more to spare him than to forgive him. "Are you…hurt?"

His posture returns to its usual stiff reluctance as he shakes his head, like he's on trial. Discretely, Rey checks that she's not sitting too close to him. She hates that this somehow her fault, no matter how much she wants to help pull his demons out of him.

She's not a counselor. Finn would make a better counselor right now. All she's done with him is fuck things up, evidenced by the faint, smooth scar across his face.

 _Please. Please let me help you._

"Was that – the screaming…do you always feel that?"

He is staring a hole in the table. "What do you think."

Fine, okay. "Is that why we have to go to Jakku? Because…you think they will stop?"

His lips thaw into some slight grin, humoring in her innocent question.

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Not touching me will help," he warns her.

"I just want to see that you're all right. I don't want to see you hurt."

He huffs in sick amusement, making Rey want to bang her head on the table.

"I _don't_ ," she repeats. "You helped me. You told me that I made you want to fight for the Light again. That..." _I'm the only thing you believe in now_ …This is not something Rey has the strength to say. "…On the beach, after my friend Jess died. Remember?"

"You can't help me with this," he says quietly.

"Why not? I just want to help. Even you deserve that."

The way the corners of his eyes crinkle make him look like he's smiling, somehow. "That's because you always want to help. Someone, anyone." Through the Force, she senses a slight thread of affection offered her way. "Rey." He hasn't said her name in a while. There is a closeness in the careful tone. He gets to his feet, needing some space. "It doesn't go away like…a switch. There will always be…I will always see them. There's so many of them."

It's not like she's _forgotten_. Not completely. Just…"I'm sorry," she offers.

"Don't. Don't ever – " he tries, severe and on edge.

Her face burns. She hates herself for worrying about him, only for him to be stupidly realistic and remind her he was a terrible, terrible, evil person, and she had once hated him more than she needed to breathe.

Ben doesn't speak. He must sense her conflicted feelings. He seems to draw less air in an effort to be still.

She wants to disappear, too, cauterizing a hole in the table. Kriff, he's just a man and she's not afraid of him. Even if she cares for him.

There. She's admitted it. She's attracted to him, in shades of passive admiration of his strange face to full-on "I-must-touch-him" desire. And she _cares_ for him. Well done, Leia, you've found your son an admirer.

He was damned before anyone could try to save him. It's a reminder, always, that she could have ended up like him. If anyone could understand him, _want_ him, it's her.

"I wish…" she finds herself saying. "I wish I had been there. For when…before it all…"

Ben's stare almost dares her to shut up. "You would not have been able to stop me."

"Yeah, I could have," she argues, still, in a small, stubborn voice.

Ben's expression is finally overcome with tender serenity. His eyes are warm again, awed at her brazen, sharp optimism.

"That's…that's the most that anyone could ever give me," he concludes in a painfully relaxed tone.

Rey relaxes, too, gripping the metal cup tighter than before. For a moment the demons are gone.

Before the awkwardness settles in, there's an alarm. Ben stares up at it and pales.

"There's another ship."

They're in hyperspace, though. "Are we being followed?"

Ben doesn't have to answer. Whoever's right behind them must have a powerful ship – and a strong desire to capture the _Falcon_.

Alarmed, both bolt to the cockpit. Rey's smaller and hops into the pilot's seat, while Ben looms over.

"Is it First Order?" he demands.

"I can't tell from the signal." Rey glares at the console as she scans the sensors. "It looks like a really old frequency - "

When she looks up at him, his eyes are dead ahead and unfocused. Rey inhales: he's searching through the Force in hyperspace.

"Not a First Order vessel, or personnel," he tells her. "But they could be bounty hunters."

"Fuck. There's no shortage of those," Rey mutters under her breath.

"Where are we right now?"

Rey's fingers flit over a viewscreen. "Sirhaussa fields. We're a couple parsecs from a few spare moons along the Daur'ha Belt – "

" – Asteroid fields?" he says, suddenly sharp.

"Yeah, Kriff – !" Rey's stomach drops. If they don't drop out of hyperspace now, they'll collide right into the asteroid field and fucking _die_.

She whips her head at Ben, who's still standing.

"Sit down!"

Right when she tries to shove him into a seat, the _Falcon_ drops out of light-speed, making everything lunge from whiplash.

Alarms sound off as rocks the size of houses swerve and bounce off the suddenly-tiny ship. Rey's a pretty good pilot, but in here there are too many overwhelming factors.

Add the key sound of blaster fire –

"Fuck! Damnit!"

From behind Ben tugs her by the shoulders. "Out. Out of the seat, now." His movements are swift and calm as he manhandles her into the co-pilot's seat and him at the main controls.

"There's two of them – one's at our upcoming right – "

"Hush," he commands. Rey blinks; his tone is suddenly gruff and impatient, so much like the last owner of this ship. Ben's fierce eyes scour the viewscreen, just like how Han used to, while Rey could only watch and attempt to look like she was helping the whole time.

"There's a lever under the console, in front of your chair."

There's a horrible crunch outside, making everything shudder. Rey prays there isn't a break in the hull.

"What lever?" she asks dubiously over the claxon sounds.

"Under _there_ ," he snaps, pointing down.

Grinding her teeth, Rey peers and feels around. She doesn't know what he's talking about; there's no lever –

Just as her fingers brush against a crevice (that _definitely_ hadn't been there before), she's thrown back into the seat. The restraints snakes around her, buckling her in with invisible hands.

She snaps her head over to Ben, who's biting his tongue in concentration. "Just hang on."

He turns the ship wildly into an impossible arc. Rey's brain and bones throttle against her body. For a few peaceful seconds, there's no sound of asteroids banging the ship. He's expertly sailing around them, until –

 _The lever. Pull it, now,_ he tells her with crisp necessity.

Rey throws her hand out and clutches the lever from its bed. There is a small thrust from underneath. Through the window of the cockpit she can catch random pieces of junk, mostly durasteel, cargo containers…a few bones, scraps of cloth and a severed hand press into the glass.

"Wha…"

Whoever shot us will think they've destroyed the _Falcon_. There's enough scraps he hid underneath for years.

"How can we hide?" she wonders, forgetting to communicate through thought alone.

"Watch."

Unusually calm, even pleased with himself, Ben glides the still-intact _Falcon_ onto something…solid. He switches on a gravitational pull and an atmospheric densifier, as if they've landed somewhere.

"Are we…"

The view of space swerves so uncontrollably, despite the grounded-ness Ben's selected, that there's only one answer.

"Did you seriously just land us on an asteroid?" she asks in a small voice. Her hazel eyes are blown wide at the furious dance of gray rocks.

Ben makes a few adjustments and gets to his feet like he's about to hop into the 'fresher. "Of course I did."

"That."

Her emotionless, stupefied voice makes Ben turn back to her.

"That. Was the most…," she breathes out, finally facing him. "You clever _bastard_."

Ben inhales. The cockpit suddenly feels much smaller, for he's grown a few feet from her praise. She's genuinely marveling at him, almost like their talk hadn't happened a few minutes ago.

He ducks his head finally, letting his hair cover his face as he allows a secret smile.

"I did more than learn how to walk in here, you know." He mutters this excuse. "Help me shut everything down. There's a coolant – "

" – That can avoid thermal detection, right," Rey finishes, springing back to life. She flutters into movement, flying past him into the main cabin.

Twenty minutes later, the two wait under the cover of the thick asteroid field.

Ben's deep under in meditation, sensing how far away the earlier bounty hunter ships are now, and of the local populace nearby.

After a few more tense minutes, Ben emerges. "What does the databank say?"

Rey glances back at one of the computer screens. He waits a few beats until she haltingly reads out from the bank. "The Daur-ha belt's colonized by…small-time commm…commercial…groups, I guess, and a…a 'stellar view of some astrological rarity.' Though nothing looks particularly unique out here."

"We may be out of season right now," he muses, his eyes warily peeled for incoming ships. "What else?"

Rey is more hesitant, this time, shaking her head at the foreign markings. Reading anything more than basic piloting symbols or mechanical signs isn't part of her education.

Rey ignores the hot impatience (coming from her, not him) and clears her throat. "Um. Sorry, I can't understand half of this."

Ben narrows his eyes for one second, then they smooth over as he gets up. Arching over her at the viewscreen, he reads: "'A few thousand nomads and foolish scholarly tourists flock here and try to mix with the thick-skinned locals and more gruff passers-by.' Sounds accurate for a midway station like this." Ben is pensive as he sits back down.

Across from him, Rey can practically read the half-formed idea in his head. "What? What are you thinking?"

"We're far too out west from any First Order outpost. We can either wait in this position another day and continue travelling…or we could dock here and investigate what they came here for."

"So they did stop? The two ships?"

"One did. The other continued through hyperspace. They bought the ruse."

Ben's focus on the spaceport nearby suggests something more than sneaking behind a couple sleazy bounty hunters. Ben's too cautious for that.

In an instant it clicks. "You want to find out what they've been saying about you. The First Order."

The man casts a mildly annoyed glare at her discovery. "It's been almost two weeks since I disappeared. Word will have definitely gone out. I'm featured in almost all of the propaganda holovids."

Rey looks away. Those propaganda holovids are sickening. It makes Finn glower and retreat into himself at the way the Stormtroopers shout their loyalty in mantras, or the way that irritable red-haired leader, Hux, enunciates each syllable of his hateful speeches.

Ben – or, Kylo Ren – was almost always seen skulking about in his mask and black robes. He was the symbol, more fearsome than any thousand-man field of 'troopers or a furious Hux. At least Rey and Finn knew the human face underneath the costume.

She has no chance in suggesting he stay here while she investigates, or skip visiting the spaceport at all. "D'you think it's all right, that anyone will recognize you?"

Ben sniffs with derisive confidence. "No. The only people in the Order who know me are…"

Snoke, Hux, and the few Ren knights that are still alive. That is too many.

Ben grits his teeth, growling out his temper. "Damn it."

"I'll go."

Ben's posture is all ice again at the idea. "No you won't. Not by yourself."

"I'll cover myself up, and we've got blasters. There's a trunk full of clothes and helmets. We can pass as trade scouts or something."

Rey is already out the cockpit, waiting for him to follow her. A bad feeling sinks in, but damned if this 130-pound girl takes the lead any longer.


	8. Chapter 8

The Call to the Light

Chapter 8

Boshtar Webb's given Rey some civilian clothes, too. Under a wine-colored woolen vest-tunic is a tan shirt with long sleeves. She prefers not to wear boots with hard heels, so she's opted for light shoes with laces that are good for running.

There's a pair of nice boots Webb left her, which fit quite well. She supposes if she's going to be in danger and needs to kick someone, the boots will work best.

She's put on a thin but sturdy jacket, in case someone happens to pull a knife. Her lightsaber is strapped against her leg, so she finds a scarf to wrap around her waist to drape over it.

Ben is whipping a black jacket over his shoulders. It's a split-second gesture, but the way he shrugs it on, straightens it, even tucks his hair out from the collar, makes her mind go blank and her ears burn.

"It's not a good idea for us to separate," he advises, ever the order-giver as Rey pulls out a clean scarf.

"Fine, but you're not going looking like that. You'll need something to cover your face." There's a simple-looking visor that will cover the top part of his face. She offers it to him.

Ben pauses. "I won't need one. I'll keep a low profile."

Rey looks at him dubiously.

Irked at her doubt, he turns his head. "Hasn't my uncle taught you how to sift through a crowd undetected? It may be a Jedi Trick, but – "

"I know, but still, I wouldn't risk it. If the First Oder really published your face with a price on it, then maybe everyone's really focused on finding you. Just a thought."

Ben seems to debate this for a few seconds, then takes the helmet with a low huff.

As he adjusts it in his hands, he speaks to the floor. "I was just getting used to not needing one."

Wrapping the scarf around her face, Rey projects a short puff of sympathy to him.

"Should we bother refueling?" she asks him. Just to let him feel a sense of control, of wisdom.

"Not in an outpost like this. It's better we remain untethered." In case we have to escape, he doesn't have to say.

"Right." She goes back to the cockpit, removes the gravitational pull on the asteroid and pilots the _Falcon_ towards the outpost. Ben remains standing behind her chair, his gloved hand resting on the seat.

"There doesn't look to be a lot of security, so we don't have to dock in the hanger bays."

"Though this place is overrun by thieves," he reminds her. He gazes across the approaching surface, suddenly leaning so far over that his face hovers right next to hers. "Lights off. Set it down over there."

Rey nearly gulps, controlling her breathing. He's so close to her she can smell his heady scent.

To make things worse, he leans even closer – "No, there," - pointing to an abandoned building in a condemned area.

As soon as she turns on the landing gear, he retreats, then halts. "You don't know about the booby traps, do you?"

Rey's eyebrows shoot up. "No…?"

He grins openly. Well, to him, wickedly. "Only one way to keep everyone out of this ship."

Rey deflates a little in her seat, now realizing he's restless enough to _want_ to cause trouble.

sssssssssssssssssssssssssss

They decide to head into the center of town, roughly 100 feet from each other. Better to look like they didn't come together.

 _You've been in places like this before?_ she asks through the Force.

 _Naturally. When I was still Luke's padawan. Though I didn't interact well with the locals, ever. The price of being Princess Leia Organa's son._

A light goes off in her head. Leia had never made it public that her son was actually Kylo Ren. She told Rey they had covered it all up, that he had died in the second Purge (which he had caused).

 _Are there pictures of you –_ she begins to ask in alarm.

 _When I was ten. My mother kept a very low profile for me. I was homeschooled before joining the Jedi._

Homeschooling. Not normal school like she knows people had in their childhoods. It sounds a little lonely; but then, she understands loneliness.

They get closer to the bustle of the city. There are a few tourists, young and stupid-looking from the Inner Rim, looking for some rough adventure among the poor and unkind.

 _Don't be prejudiced against them,_ Ben advises, amused at her low hum of displeasure.

"Hmph."

They extend their senses, letting the Force feed on the people's mental signals. It's a buzzing mixture of interest from shoppers and sellers, squalling hungry younglings, and dead-eyed homeless. Rey's learned, in a personal coping experience of her own, to compare the noises and senses like music. She heard some random concert piece from Artoo, who was playing it for Luke in Ach-To, when she was first so moved from it. Since returning to the galaxy for the Resistance, her powers were heightened enough that a poor focus could give her a headache.

Something's pulling her away, now. This is usually a telltale sign that someone, a stranger, is focusing on her. Either that or danger is coming close.

Without knowing where she's going, she folds into the crowd of market-sellers in the dank, narrow street. There is something familiar ahead. It's not just a pull now, it's a hot, electrical heat, thick as burning sand.

There's a smell, too. Engine grease.

Something stops her in the middle of the street. Under his visor, Ben stares down at her.

 _What is it?_

Looking back with a shaking head, she thinks, _I don't know._ They're in front of an entrance to a cheap cantina carved into the stone, but inside it bolsters with live music, raucous laughter and stinking alcohol.

 _I think we should go in._

Ben doesn't let go of her. "For what?" he whispers over her.

She taps his fingers over her bicep crisply. "For a drink?"

It's too bad she can't see his face under the visor. His eyes must be _burning_ , she thinks with mischief.

Ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

The downstairs is a sea of drunk people. It's honestly no different than when the Resistance crew gets rowdy after a victory, and Rey misses it, and them, terribly. This is her familiar calling: sounds, laughter, music, swaying, grumbling, a clumsy cacophony of glee and murky lust.

After so long in the desert of dead, bone-dry silence, this is like life.

One time, off-planet from Ach-to, Rey had followed Luke Skywalker into a bar for some information. She was shocked and amused to see him sitting somewhere with a woman on his lap and another doing some knife-dance. Luke just sat there like he _wasn't_ some celibate mystic, like he was always a bachelor smoking with them the whole afternoon. Whatever signs of careless youth that had been hidden away under his gray hair, it melted away in Rey's eyes.

"I realized," he told her with another puff of sweet smoke. "It really doesn't hurt to enjoy the simpler things in life."

Now, as she descends into the ground floor, she thinks Ben needs to be lectured the same thing.

The man hangs back, although by a hairline of restraint. _You want to get drunk_ now _?_

 _I don't want to get drunk_ , she corrects him, enjoying this too much. _I said I just want a drink. People drink in bars. We can get plenty of First Order news here._

His unease simmers, making Rey push away the connection. For fuck's sake, she can take care of herself.

Just as she heads to the bar she's slammed from behind. The back of her neck is soaked with something.

"Shit! Sorry!"

"What the fuck – "

"Dude, Maker, I'm so sorry – "

Ben is already on his way.

 _Easy, I've got this._

Not one to look like he's taking orders, Ben straightens in the middle of the cantina floor. _I'll leave you to it, then._

She ignores him and focuses back on the hastily apologetic human male who looks her age, and initially nice-looking. He could easily pass as one of these college boys looking to have some risk in their otherwise cushioned life.

He's perfect. Time to play a role, then.

Rey doesn't like to do the Jedi Mind Trick very much, not unless it was really necessary. She's learned that passing as a clueless but amiable girl provides less work on her part (something Jess and Poe taught her).

She tugs on the scarf covering her mouth, adapting the Basic accent again. "I just bought this jacket, you blind fucko!"

"I was totally out of it, can I – can I buy you a drink? You know, in case you…"

The human is actually human _oid_. Besides the change Rey notices in his heartbeat pattern, his eyes are an uncharacteristic plum-hazel, and under his dirty blond hair are two low, mohawk-like ridges along each side of his skull.

"…Haven't ordered a drink already," he finishes lamely, seeing Rey's hands are empty. The sticky sweetness of the drink adds to Rey's irritation.

The young male is speechless for a moment. Just before Rey snaps her fingers in his face, he shakes himself. "I'm! I'm Terric."

Um. Okay. "And I'm _wet_ ," she reminds him.

"Right! Here, let me get you some napkins, hang on."

The poor youth is so eager like a premature firecracker that it's pathetic. Yeah, Ben has nothing to worry about this little pup of a man.

Terric comes back and sizes up her soaked scarf awkwardly. He begins to pat down her head and chin, like he's brushing a feral tuskat that hasn't eaten in days.

Enjoying his struggle, Rey cocks out her hip and puts her hands on her waist. "Are you serious right now?"

"Yeah, well," Terric says, approaching her. "I mean, it's a dark room in here and…" he throws the wet napkins carelessly over his head, and his fingers reach to one end of the scarf. Deftly, he unwraps the cloth from her face until it brushes off her shoulders.

"And you gotta admit. You've got pretty stunning eyes."

Okay. Under normal circumstances, Rey would slap him for that. But…wow. This complete stranger just touched her. And Rey just let him do that.

She must look stupefied at his courage, for he grins.

"So. I'm _Terric_ ," he reminds her in this easy, friendly tone.

Rey is so strongly reminded of Finn and his goodness that she doesn't walk away. It's all gone because she's on a mission. "Whatever."

"Okay, Whatever. What can I get you to drink?"

Why is this so fun? "How about you make my boyfriend over there jealous?" she answers with a discrete swing of her head.

Sssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Plastering himself near a crowded table, by the wall so that shadows practically drown him, Ben perks his head in rising concern. Rey had cut him off from sensing her, assuring him she was fine against that brain-damaged pretty boy.

Until they both looked in his direction.

"Maker," he whispers under his breath. _What are you up to?_

Ssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

"Where is he?"

"He…Oh, I guess he must have stepped out. He's a smoker. Well, it doesn't matter. He looks no different from any of those tall, dark and brooding idiots."

"Yeesh. He's a shy fella, isn't he?"

"Yeah, well. We're on our honeymoon."

Terric throws an incredulous look at her.

"I'm just kidding!" she jokes. "No, we're traveling, and we've been trying to get some work as trade runners, but his permit expired recently. We're based on…" she hesitates. "We were based on Hosnia Prime."

Terric's mouth opens a little. "Holy shit."

"Yeah, well." Honest emotion tingles through her until her eyes burn. "We were the only ones in our families offworld at the time."

Terric could be a few years older, but his expression tempers from outwardly eager to sober. "Yeah, mine too."

Oh. Now she feels really bad. Against her good intentions, though, Rey finds the opening. "Well, tell you what. I'll take you up on your offer and we'll toast to home."

Sssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

They hadn't agreed to split up, however Ben can't seem to concentrate on asking these sleaze-balls around him for information. He watches Rey become something else, something relaxed and friendly (though still armed with her edge, to keep this college boy alert), and he's a little fascinated.

He finds himself grinning to himself at the sudden jump to laughter she makes. The young man relaxes, but still, Ben can't help but think of a tuskat, or a Jespi cobra tricking its prey into false safety.

His Rey is _not_ so harmless.

He wants to pry a little further in, enough that she can't sense him (she can sense him faster now, his signature is so intimately known to her), but there is a small pressure aimed at his side.

"She's cute," says a gruff Coruscanti accent, a few inches below his ear. "You'll find I'm a lot cuter. Let's go outside."


	9. Chapter 9

The Call to the Light

Chapter 9 complete

If it wasn't for the low purr of violence brimming from this man (or the blaster against him), Ben would have mistaken that he was being sexually propositioned.

Ohhhh. Ben could grin until his face splits. Now he knows, those fuckers on the other bounty hunter ship _did_ wait until they landed on the Belt.

Rey's wasting her time trying to chat up this clueless youth. All Ben had to do was sit and wait for one of the hunters to snag him

And now they must think he will go _quietly_.

His lightsaber feels attentively heavy. Ben holds out his hands, showing he is unarmed.

He doesn't bother to alert Rey he's been caught. This will all be over in a bloody mess outside.

In the darkened alleyway, he casually observes the shorter, slim man with wiry strength. He's dressed in nondescript rags and a leather visor that covers everything but his eyes and forehead.

Apparently that's the style for criminals around here.

Under the smattering of luminescent asteroids, his facial features are vaguely human. "Take off your visor. That's it."

"Do you have any idea who I am?" the shadow of Kylo Ren invites in a leer.

"I don't care who you are. What matters is how much you're worth."

Ah. "And what exactly is the price on my head?"

"What, so you can ditch me and sell yourself? Please. Now, be a good boy and turn around."

Ben draws to his full height. He is _not_ a boy. "No."

"Son," he says, warningly. "Turn around."

Ben doesn't have time for this. He draws his the Force like a tapped mine, reaching for his lightsaber –

Only to find that they are _both_ gone.

What the ACTUAL FUCK.

At his apparent shock, the man who's captured him extends his non-blaster hand. Ice-blue heat shoots out from _his_ lightsaber, in the filthy motherfucker's hand.

Ben clamps his gaping mouth shut decisively. He'll kill him with the Force, then.

As he focuses on ripping the man's head from his neck, he's met with a thick cloud. Sweat bleeds out of his forehead and his chest tightens. His head swims almost drunkenly.

Nothing happens. Something is horribly wrong.

He can't feel…he's deaf, all of a sudden. Why can't he do anything?

Why can't he call for Rey?!

"Force-dampener, boy."

The words dance around his head as if foreign. Ben has heard of these mechanisms before. Usually they're huge pieces of hypo-electric equipment that has to be installed in walls for prisoners…or, in his case as a former Ren Knight, captured Jedi.

Something small and dark scurries on the bounty hunter's shoulder. It's a two-headed, two-tailed lizard with a line of eyes along its spine. Ben's seen pictures of this species before. It's a Ccaleda lizard. It secretes pheromones that heavily dampen most telepaths, including Force-sensitives.

The thing rests on the bounty hunter's shoulder like a pet. Ben's knees wobble, and he finds himself slurring, fighting unconsciousness. "Youuu…"

"Well, you can sit still while I call in –"

The bounty hunter's teasing sentence is cut off. Rey has snuck up and snatched the damn lizard thing off his shoulder, squeezing its neck until a faint squeak bursts through the poor animal. Hazel eyes blaze, twin death sentences aimed at the bounty hunter.

Her arm snaps back. The lizard is smacked against some empty trash barrels, which clatter in the silent alley. It must be dead because in another moment Ben can finally breathe, and see.

"You touch him again," Rey utters in a deathly voice. "And I'll hurt you."

"Braeton! She's - "

The boy who flirted with Rey comes barreling from behind, only to be savagely kicked in the stomach (Rey doesn't even turn _around_ ). He's thrown off-balance and knocks his head against the wall, crumbling to the ground.

Nobody moves. Ben's heart, however, shivers in triumph at her protective rage.

 _She borders the Dark Side for me._

"Aw, for fuck's sake," says the bounty hunter.

"Give him back his lightsaber," Rey orders.

"So you can cut me to pieces?"

"So we can escape and be on our way," Rey corrects him.

"Though you deserve a lot less," Ben cuts in, sending his lightsaber flying out of the bounty hunter's hand and back to his own.

Still ignited, the blade is pointed at the bounty hunter's heart. Enough of this useless _talk and threats_.

The Force roars back to him like a tremor. Indignation sings in his veins, bolstering his thirst for punishment. "You will tell me who sent you, and where the closest First Order ship is."

The bounty hunter doesn't even flinch. "'M a changeling, boy. Force Mind Tricks don't work on me. Neither will wiping out my memory." His tone is even yet unbearably smug. "So unless you want me to run back to the Resistance, you're gonna have to spill my guts out here now."

Ben pushes the blade closer without thinking. "That's not a problem."

"Ben."

All she says is his name, and yet it is a stronger restraint in his power than a thousand of those lizard things.

"He mentioned the Resistance," she tells him at his hesitation.

Ben's brows furrow. "I thought the First Order put the price on my head."

"Aye," says the bounty hunter. "But I have a soft spot for the underdogs."

"We're with the Resistance, you clunker," Rey retorts.

"What about the ship that came after us in hyperspace?" Ben cuts in "Was that you?"

The bounty hunter hesitates, but then there's a sound of rushing footsteps at the end of the alleyway.

It's a Rodian. "Braeton!" he yells in Basic. "You got him?"

Braeton, the bounty hunter, raises his blaster and shoots the Rodian in the chest.

Before Ben and Rey can react from the drawn weapon, another figure skids to his feet in front of the dead Rodian. In mere seconds they watch a human female pull at a communicator and speak to it.

"Shit," hisses the bounty hunter. He shoots again.

The woman dodges and shoots from her own blaster. The bounty hunter and Ben dodge for cover on one side of the wall. Rey, however –

 _Whoosh -_ "OWWW!"

Ben whips his head around, his throat constricting in fear. Rey is on the ground, scrambling against the wall. She clutches her shoulder feebly while the ground is striped with blood.

 _REY!_

He's temporarily paralyzed from her pain. This is his fault. She's hurt because he was too stupid to protect them both.

 _I'm all right,_ she tells him, shaken from the burning impact.

Then the bounty hunter shouts over the blaster fire. "I'll get you two out of here. On one condition: you take us with you."

Burning with lava-hot frustration, Ben steps out and holds out a hand. Every inch of his posture is a command: the next red-hot streaks of laser fire are frozen mid-air.

As the laser bolts crackle, the female shooter on the other end dashes away to escape.

He is so hot with adrenaline he cannot think. They are in danger, and First Order agents could be hovering nearby, or within the Belt. Rey's injured and now the _Falcon_ feels so agonizingly far.

He shifts his focus on the several blasters cutting the air. He aims them at the running woman.

 _Ben. Let her go._

Ben looks down at his companion, his savior. She's pushing herself upright while still staunching the bleeding.

He helps her straighten her legs with sudden tenderness. _She SHOT you,_ he reminds her in frayed intensity.

Even in the murky moonlight, she glares. _I'll survive._

"Are you people gonna – "

Ben cannot think in this cramped, loud space. He wants everything to disappear and have him and Rey back and safe in the _Falcon_.

But she won't let him kill anyone.

So he does his best with what he's allowed to do. He throws his hand out, and like she did with the lizard and the boy behind them, batters the woman against the wall until she's knocked out.

The bounty hunter watches with an approving nod. "Well, all right, then."

Behind them, the boy groans and shuffles upright. "Whoa. What the fuck did I miss?"

"We've traded our shit comrades for new ones," quips the bounty hunter.

The boy's dazed look is replaced with rippling denial. " _What_?" He flips his gaze from Rey to Ben. "Absolutely fucking not. We came her to capture _him_."

"Plans change, boy," the bounty hunter says. "You're welcome to leave, but I've just shot the Rodian and the human. Korla and the Bothan won't be safe without us. Well, me."

Ben grabs the bounty hunter by the collar and leans forward. "How many are there with you?"

"About six more. Aliens that are bigger than me."

"That woman was one of yours?" Rey asks.

"Aye. The rest of the scavengers will probably descend on us in another minute."

The Ccaleda lizard…there could be more of them. Ben shoves the bounty hunter back into the wall to get his attention. "Do they also have Force-dampeners?"

"No! Those shit things are expensive."

Rey's connection to Ben in the Force is torn from her injury. She turns around, remembering the boy. "And what about you? Are you with him?"

Still on the floor, the blond shrugs. "Yeah."

Ben struggles to seize comprehension of the moment. This man is a conflict: First he tries to capture Ben, then he suddenly defends them; though he seems to act out of getting a larger cut on his head-price all for himself.

"So whose side are _you_ on?" he demands, a low growl, baring his teeth. His scar on his face flexes.

"Yours." The bounty hunter replies hurriedly, struggling under Ben's vice grip. "So long as you help me get my…special lady friend and a certain prized possession out of a Grayscale-class ship called the _Shadowbreaker_. I'll help you guys escape. I'll make sure all First-Order-sized cunts are warded off the scent, but me and my assistant here are out of a job, courtesy to you two. So pay up and take us wherever the hell you want with you."

"Are you serious?!" the blond cries out in dismay. He's emanating hatred at Ben.

"Wait – wait a minute. Why should we help you?" Rey demands, grimacing away the pain in her arm.

At this, the bounty hunter under Ben's grip turns to Rey, in a patient manner that Ben picks up on immediately.

"Because, luv," he says to Rey, cryptically. "It's about time you returned the favor."


	10. Chapter 10

The Call to the Light

Chapter 10 complete

 _Five minutes ago:_

The moment Rey senses Ben is gone, the smell of engine grease and something musky, like nervous sweat, becomes impossible to ignore.

She's just about to turn the conversation with the boy to the First Order. It's a pretty good set-up, and even though she's trying to get information from him, it feels nice just to talk to someone new for a change.

"Some of those men scare me," the humanoid, Terric, is surprisingly forward with the conversation. "I mean, those Ren knight fellas – I heard that they're tortured to within an inch of their lives, and then train when they're bleeding to remind themselves of what pain feels like. It's fucked up, isn't it? Sorry, I'm probably depressing you, but seriously – "

"No. No, it's all right, I mean – " Rey stumbles, too easily imagining Ben's seeping self-injuries under her hands. "It's just…I've seen footage of…some of them. But there's one. He was wearing a mask – "

"Well, they all wear masks," he tells her with a patronizing chuckle as their drinks arrived.

"Right. Well, I mean – " she takes a deep breath. _Hurry up_. "I mean, I saw one. I was on Takodana. I don't even know how I was conscious, but I saw this red – he had this - his lightsaber," she imitates holding one in her fists.

"Yeah, with the messed-up points on the ends. There's footage of him."

Rey grimaces. "Kriff. I forgot. He's scary as Vader, isn't he."

"Not really. I think he's trying too hard."

Yikes; Ben would kill this guy if he heard _that_. Time to start on that drink, now. "Really," she says in forced interest.

"Yeah. Nothing original about him. Although, it looks like even he got bored of his own game. I can't wait to see his face when he's delivered to his mother."

The drink halts on Rey's lips. She froze. "What?"

"Yeah! Some story was leaked on how the top leaders in the Resistance believe he's one of the 'good guys'." He says with exaggerated sarcasm. "Leia Organa had disappeared for about a week and suddenly she returns with this batshit story about how that freak Kylo Ren saved her life. _Then_ she says it's her son, the one that fucking died in the Second Purge. Seriously some fucked-up shit right there," Terric concludes with a long pull of his drink.

Rey swallows her shock and gains composure. "That sounds absolutely bogus."

"Well, either way, the First Order seems to be treating it as legit," Terric quips. "Not that it matters, because in any case that monster is on the run. He hasn't been seen in his little campaign footages, and neither is that Jedi the Resistance keeps talking about."

Oh, right. Not that she's ever had to be part of the Resistance's meager campaign spots (compared to the Order's), but her existence has been widely communicated throughout the galaxy. Luckily the Resistance has kept her appearance a secret. At first, they didn't even know she was a woman.

"Maybe _that Jedi's_ got his hands on him," she jokes after a beat of silence.

The way Terric's eyes linger on her as he lifts his drink make her go cold. "If that's the case, that Jedi's doing a horrible job of keeping an eye on him."

Anyways, that's how she ends up rushing outside, desperate to follow Ben's strained presence with the other bounty hunter.

Sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Now, bleeding and fighting off nausea and a migraine, she stares at the masked bounty hunter with the muffled voice.

Everything out in the alleyway is cast in indigo and moonlight that she can't see the remains of the other man's face. Ben's molten temper makes Rey lose focus even more. But the smell…the heat from scalding sand, and something else. Musky.

It is a Coruscanti accent. She's heard a few more of those, similar to her own, since joining the Resistance.

She doesn't know this man. And he's weakened Ben. He could have hurt or killed him out in this alleyway, and Rey wouldn't have known it.

She doesn't want to trust him, or Terric behind her (if that is his real name). But the Force, ever providing and confusing at the same time, is telling her she has to.

She blinks sluggishly at Ben, who's pinned the smaller man. His eyes are wild and dangerous, and she feels something uncurl in her because of it.

He offers only a small nod, having considered her thoughts.

She glares at the blond. "Where's your ship?"

He looks to the masked man for guidance.

"Tell us!" Rey spits out urgently.

He glowers in defeat. "Hanger bay five, in a docking station called the Sunset Garage."

"We'll split up. Bria – take him to our ship," Ben tells Rey. He comes over and removes her scarf, wrapping it around her shoulder and securing it in tight movements. "We'll meet you there."

Rey hesitates. Normally she'd find a reason to protest, sensing he wanted her out of trouble. But there's a hole in her and it's on _fire_.

"All right."

The bounty hunter shakes his head. "We'll need cover from you guys. Any chance you can bring the ship over to us for a quick escape?"

"Fine," Rey bites out.

Behind her, "Terric" is hauling something from behind a few garbage bins. It looks like a really thin and compact hoverbike. "What about you two?" he asks Ben.

"I can hold my own," he snaps his assurance.

"Ben, wait – " Rey pulls him back. "Lightsabers might not be a good idea."

Impatient, Ben glares at her. His last gesture before he parts from her is a hand placed on her hip, on the scarf her own lightsaber hides under.

Then he's off with the masked bounty hunter, the one who is unexplainably familiar.

"You coming or what?" The blonde is already on the bike.

With a huff, Rey straddles behind him and holds on with her good arm. "Head for the condemned buildings by the mining hills."

sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Ben and the bounty hunter keep a quick pace as the two flee through narrow side streets and markets. There is a blaster inside Ben's jacket, though he can't remember the last time he used one.

When they reach the cheap hanger bay, Ben memorizes each facet of the building. The place is packed with disorganized and dirty ships.

"Back here," the bounty hunter mutters.

Instead, Ben shakes the hair out of his face and strides to the entrance. A pig-faced alien saunters over in attendance.

"Need to see your pass – "

" – You're letting us through and you will forget ever seeing us," he says cooly. He doesn't wait for the monotone reply.

The bounty hunter follows with an unimpressed shrug. He takes out his blaster, prompting Ben to do the same.

There are sounds of security guards lazily walking down the walkways, and a few shouts between patrons and fueling personnel. Wordlessly, Ben extends his ability to conceal himself amid the shadows and large ships.

"Anything I should know about your former comrades?" he asks the bounty hunter.

"Just that they're a bunch of arseholes. A Cerean, a Barabel, two Bothans and a couple Dugs that are fast as hell." A clicking sound alerts Ben that he's finally taken his visor off. "There," he says, his voice now clear. "The blue striped beauty on your right."

It really is a beauty. The ramp is closed, and there's a Barabel stationed at the front, casually smoking with a rifle held across his chest.

"Where is the woman?"

"Korla. She's a Tholothian," he hinted. "The package is a Bothan named Rumley. He's the younger brother of a high-ranking something-or-other. The rest can be torched, I don't care."

Ben scoffs. 'No lightsaber' be damned. He turns back to the bounty hunter.

He's all human, from his sky blue eyes to his broken nose. His looks are so lightheartedly smug that he reminds Ben so much of Han Solo.

"Distract the Barabel. I'll enter through the front."

"The front?" the bounty hunter repeats, but Ben's already slinked away into the shadows. As the Jedi circles the starship towards the cockpit, the bounty hunter emerges from the cover of the other ships and shouts, "Hey, Vorlo! What happened, everyone out for drinks or something?"

Blaster fire emerges. Ben concentrates on the Force and makes a giant leap, landing on the nose of the ship. He takes out his lightsaber and cuts through the window, stepping through.

There's a Dug waiting for him, cursing and climbing up from the controls to Ben's legs. No longer under anyone's supervision, Ben rounds his saber to cut at any limb hoping to knock him off his feet.

One down.

He steps in and observes the controls for the ramp release. When the metal creaks in protest, he strides out.

A few life-forms are onboard. Swiftly Ben turns through to the main cabin, not even blinking or turning off his saber when the next foe, a Cerean with a vibro-blade, turns to face him.

He briefly registers a gold-skinned woman gasping in terror, and a brown-furred, rodent-faced alien cowering nearby. The Cerean is harder to subdue, but Ben's practiced in deflecting with his saber. He finishes the fight with the Cerean's tall skull lopped off his head.

"Holy shit!" the woman screams.

Ben turns around, wiping blood off the front of his jacket.

He looks between her and the short Bothan, promptly ignoring their unabashed looks of terror. Outside, the bounty hunter must still be dealing with the Barabel and the other Dug.

Instantly he senses their nervousness and suspicion. Force manipulation is a necessity for them at this point. "I am taking you to safety. You will follow me and stay out of harm's way."

Their faces complacent, he leads them to the ramp. The bounty hunter is in the middle of an unmatched knife-fight with the Barabel, and the Dug. Well, nearly unmatched. In each arm is a blade similar to the vibro-blades, and he moves with efficient, quick skill.

 _We're here._

Ben perks his head up on instinct. It's Rey, though she sounds faint. Soon enough, he hears the roar of the _Falcon._

Time's up. He zeroes back on the brawlers, freezing the two aliens' movements.

The bounty hunter's eyes blaze in surprise.

"Leave them! Our ride's here," Ben explains.

Expertly, the _Falcon_ swerves over and neatly hovers above them. Rey holds herself against the frame and holds out her arm.

"Get on the ship!" he yells over the engine to the two strangers.

His hold over their minds has broken from distraction. The woman screams her protest, finding herself outside. "No way! What the hell's going on!"

"Korla, for cunt's sake, do what he says!" the bounty hunter shouts.

The woman, Korla, looks at the bounty hunter with pleading eyes.

"I'll be right behind you, sweetheart. You too, scruffy," he says to the Bothan.

The two turn to the _Falcon_ , and Ben sends them up in a graceless leap up. Rey pulls them in, though he senses her lapse in strength and wants to get to her, fast.

He looks back at the bounty hunter and his still-frozen opponents. He can smell their distress and primal flight instincts.

He's already killed twice, just after Rey had urged him not to. He lingers on the heinous creatures, hesitating.

"Cut them both up," the bounty hunter tells him. "Trust me. They don't deserve to live."

It is a small relief to hear that. Still, he braces himself against Rey's oncoming reaction. As a trade-off he does so cleanly, quickly; snapping their necks.

With that, he pulls on the other man's jacket and lifts them both into the _Falcon_.


	11. Chapter 11

The Call to the Light

Chapter 11

Inside the _Falcon_ , it's a pit of emotions. Ben has to bite down in concentration at the inflamed swirls emanating from the woman, who's so scared she's pissed, the small Bothan and the grudging, irritated bounty hunter.

Rey is barely holding herself up. In the lit-up space, she's pale and sweating.

"Where's the boy?"

"It's all right," Rey pants. "He's at the co…"

Her eyes, already shining from bearing so much pain, go wide as saucers. She stares at the bounty hunter, who looks back at Rey in a resigned but no less dazed expression. In her mind she's projecting shock, and a trace of anxiety. Ben picks up on it, confirming that the blue-eyed man is familiar to Rey.

The moment is over when the floor underneath them tilts dangerously.

 _Cockpit_ , Rey clamors at Ben as she slumps against the wall. Blood is streaked against the surface.

Fuck this day. Fuck this day and fuck this ship.

"Get her patched up!" he bellows as he runs to the cockpit. The Force runs like static where he goes; Rey's had the boy act as a puppet, piloting the _Falcon_ as she helped Force-lift the other passengers inside.

She's going to wake up with a deathly headache, if she hasn't passed out already.

The blonde is halfway out of his seat. "I don't know how I got here, I swear. I don't even know how – "

Ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Honestly, Ben doesn't know how he hasn't passed out in frustration yet. Or how he hasn't ripped something apart with his lightsaber.

He had to subdue the blond into unconsciousness before pulling him out of the pilot's chair. Breathing exercises is the only thing that gets him to concentrate on getting into hyperspace.

Once they're safely in the black, he slumps back in the seat. They're lucky the First Order hadn't been there, or found them. He scowls. It's still unclear whether he is wanted by the First Order for defecting, or if the Resistance knows about his defection.

They re-boarded the ship in worse condition than when they disembarked: They have no better sense of direction, no concrete information…and a total of four more passengers.

And they're running low on fuel. Their food rations will deplete faster, too.

Now he's hiding in the cockpit, ashamed that Rey is hurt and he's…he's killed. Just like that. And he wanted to, even felt relieved when someone (a stranger!) gave him _permission_. He hates the lack of control now. Maker. How did his father do it, with his half-cocked plans and escapades? How did his mother?

 _Patience_ , he tells himself amidst the cramped, familiar space and the scent of old seat fabric. He is a Jedi now. He'll get answers from his…new guests. He'll devise a plan.

Not to mention the fact that this ship has seen its share of accidental adventures.

 _You are Ben Solo. For once in your life, accept that you are your father's son and…get it together._

He needs another minute to run his hands over his face and just _laugh_.

Sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

The main cabin explodes with noise when he emerges.

"Maker on a stick, Niall! What the hell kind of plan – "

"Keep your voice down, will ya?"

" – the Order did say 'dead or alive,' you know," Ben caught the rodent, the Bothan, say. "Did you ever think that maybe you should have let us decide whether we – "

"You're safe in one piece, hairball. You're lucky you're not – "

"'Lucky'? We've been mind-forced by an evil Jedi!"

"Shut UP!" Rey shouts, her voice like a violent clap in the room. Ben senses she's breaking like glass. Without a word he cuts through to her. He feels her pulse and checks out the scarf he'd hastily wrapped around her wounded shoulder.

"The least you petty thieves and…prostitutes can do is help the people who saved you," he says testily while eyeing the rattiness of the scarf.

"Sorry, we were…" the Bothan trails off.

There is a spike of outrage from the woman. "What, and suddenly you're a saint? Why don't you explain to me how Force manipulation and basically kidnapping constitute as saving us?"

"Hey, who the hell knocked me out!?" yells a voice from the cockpit.

Clenching his teeth, Ben looks up from his eyelashes at Rey, whose own troubled face melts for a second into a shared aggravation at the oncoming blond.

"Kriff, I think I've been Force-manipulated! I can't remember how I got here!"

"You can thank our new captain - " the woman, who had been quiet, quips.

"It's _my_ ship," Rey protests weakly. She raises her golden eyes on the new passengers. As they rest on the blue-eyed man, they turn glassy with disbelief. "You have _got_ to be joking."

"Easy, luv," the bounty hunter says calmly. When he meets Ben's accusing gaze by accident, he has the decency to shrug.

Rey seems to shrink in her seat, raising her mental shields so quickly Ben feels his head ache. Sensing the sudden distrust, Ben tilts his head, feeling hurt and betrayed.

Ben keeps his tone is eerily even. "How do you two know each other?"

"Well, I'll…I'll let the lady explain."

"Maker. You're Kylo Ren," the Bothan interrupts. "You're the one whose face is all over the holonet."

Ben throws his hands up. "Well, there's our answer. All we had to do is CHECK THE HOLONET!" he bellows.

"You gonna murder all of us now?" the woman demands haughtily.

"Korla," the bounty hunter mutters under his breath. "Shut your trap and sit down before _I_ murder you."

Ben turns on his lightsaber, making everyone jump, but thankfully stop talking. He erects a new, fluid mental shield that absorbs his temper in a tranquil shroud.

"I think I will ask the questions now. Starting with you," he demands from the blue-eyed human. "Why exactly did you betray your crew to join us?"

It is no surprise the bounty hunter talks first. "Name's Niall. Niall Breaton. That's Korla. She's not a prostitute, she's a friend. That's Rumley, my main investment," he points to the Bothan, who gives a bored 'hello' gesture. "I'm…not really a bounty hunter, but I am a criminal. Thief, bodyguard, hired killer – whatever you want."

Behind Ben, Rey snorts knowingly. He _ignores_ it. "You two seemed very eager to capture me," he prompts.

"Aye. There's a lot of new talk going on about you. By the way, what are we supposed to call you? Master Solo, Master Ren, or my Lord?"

"Or mass murderer. Monster," the blond, no longer innocent or petulant, adds. He fixes Ben with an even, cold stare that translates as determined hatred.

Ben surmises the level of distrust wafting from the blond. The woman is drowning in confusion, the Bothan curious but mournful, and the blue-eyed human…unreadable.

"I no longer call myself Kylo Ren. I defected from the First Order two weeks ago."

"We know," says Niall. "There's been a leaked story from the Resistance. It's all over the holonet. Apparently Missus Organa, your mum, was recorded telling the bosses of the Resistance that you saved her life and that you had reformed your murderous ways."

This is so utterly unexpected that Ben almost lets his lightsaber reach the floor. Never could he imagine his mother, a cool and unbreakable strategist, give into an emotional decision like this. She must have been fed up with keeping up the secrecy, the lie that he "died" in the Second Purge. Inside, he is a mixture of discomfort at her loyalty, and relief and pride for it.

"I…I see." He sharpens again. "So if it's a leak, has the Resistance made an official statement?"

"First Order beat them to it: They've kept their announcement underground, only for the lowest of criminal circles, but you're worth a hundred million credits, dead or alive."

Ben can only roll his eyes. The First Order would simply shoot the poor bastard who was able to bring him in.

"And I'm assuming that's what you wanted, temporarily," he muses. "There's a higher purpose here. These two – " he angles the lightsaber to the blond alien and the Tholothian, " – Are here because they are lost, and you care for them. This one," he eyes the Bothan, "I'm less convinced belongs in a circle like yours."

"That's because one of the bounty hunters from the _Shadowbreaker_ had kidnapped and ransomed him. He's not so bad, but I figures, since he's already all the way out here, why not make a deal to get him back home safely, and earn a reward?" Naill grins. "It's honestly no different than a ransom, if you think about it."

Ben ignores the social quip. "So you didn't like your…co-workers. As I have recently been in your position, I can sympathize. Now…what is it you want from us?"

Niall looks from Rey to Ben. Ben ignores it, for now.

"Where are you folks heading off to?"

Ben keeps his gaze at Niall, but he opens his head to Rey. Rey's mind is so open, radiating honesty, he knows her opinion.

"Jakku. We have…business there."

"Jedi business?" the Bothan asks.

"Not any importance to you, but yes," says Ben.

Niall is silent. The woman speaks up, blessedly reasonable. "We're looking for someone. A woman and a man: Lorra Swalvig and Fordo Tangue. They went missing a few months ago and were last seen on a pleasure barge near the Outer Rim. It's a swamp planet, that's all we know."

"Family?" asks Rey for the first time.

They all nod guardedly. When Niall speaks, Ben begins to sense reluctance, and a thin, stretched-out sense of belonging.

"I was tryna get information off the bounty hunters, maybe earn a little extra bribery money. I think they've been sold. Now the law doesn't exist out here. All that matters is that you have what your enemies may want. That's all that you can count on in here. So," he nods at Ben. "You'll forgive me for looking at a walking…brooding piece of fortune just waiting to be taken outside. But," he nods to Rey. "Seeing as I know this nice lady, I thought, 'maybe next time, let this one go.' You see what I'm saying?"

Ben hovers the saber at the blond. He will address this particular issue _now_ before he finds himself threatened or betrayed. "You. You've lost someone. Whom do you think I've killed?"

The blond gives an ugly, disgusted look. "How about everyone?! Do I need to have lost someone to hate you?"

It would be so much easier to just peek in there and see the real reason himself. But Ben can't, even as he stares the boy down. Not when he's assaulted people's minds like Rey's and the star Resistance pilot everyone's so fond of.

So he makes his next words sound as much of a threat as possible. "If you'd rather not seek refuge here, I'll drop you off in another day with your memory wiped and having no desire to hunt me down."

Purple eyes gleam in disgust. "You think this good-boy act can fool me?"

"Well, it will eventually – not that we care," Rey joins in as she puts her feet on the floor. She's had enough. "You can trust us. We're already trusting you to be on _our_ ship, so fuck off if you don't like it. He won't harm any of us."

Ben feels himself relax and warm at her declaration, until she meekly adds, "…Physically. Verbally, probably."

"Oh, yeah, and why's that?" says the blond.

"Because I'm a Jedi too," she huffs, shuffling across the room to her own. She projects over to Ben that she wants him to follow. Sighing, he deactivates his lightsaber and gives everyone a glare demanding good behavior before following her.

Neither Jedi notice the way Niall gapes in bewilderment.


	12. Chapter 12

The Call to the Light

Chapter 12

It's been a while since Rey's been hit with a blaster shot. She's glad she's retreated into her room. After seeing him – _how?!_ – she doesn't think she can hold back a few tears and a scream between her teeth.

The man's blue eyes drift in her vision even as Ben comes in. She's slid on the mattress on the floor so that his boots are at eye level.

"Where's the medpac – "

"Shelf, over there," she finishes tiredly. "I think I'm still bleeding."

"Don't get shot next time. Are there bacta patches?"

"There's a flexclamp, too, and…irrigation bulb." She waits patiently, concentrating on the blood flow seeping like a well.

Months ago, a lifetime compared to how things are now, Ben had left Rey a few serious wounds. Had she opted to let them scar (which she didn't, she repulsed the idea of visible reminders from him), she would have had a horizontal scar across her collarbone, a misdirected attempt to behead her.

As he kneels in front of her, his fingers warm as they feel around the messy scarf-bandage, Rey struggles not to flinch. He's almost _beheaded_ her. There are others, including a stubbornly-present scar on the back of her thigh, but _his_ face is distinguished more by the thin line she painted on him than any other feature. It's not as evident as when he first burned from it. Still…

His eyes flick about, almost nervously. She nods, leaning in for him to untie the scarf. He keeps the pressure down.

"Can you heal it?" he asks.

"'M trying. I think…" After a while she shakes her head. It's too much right now.

She watches him hesitate over the flexclamp. "I don't think I can heal it…on my own," he admits quietly, getting ready to remove the scarf.

Of course not. Jedi who have fully dedicated themselves to the Light are able to heal, like Rey did for Ben after he had stabbed himself a week ago. Ren Knights are so good at administering pain as part of their training; it didn't occur to Rey that their prized champion might not know how to treat it.

"It's fine. Don't mind the old-fashioned way," she says before gasping, breathing in and out like she is in labor. He slaps on the first bacta patch to staunch the bleeding and sets up extra sterilization tools.

He tosses away the bloody scarf. "This will take you more than a couple of days to heal. You'll have to rest. A lot." _Don't leave me with these strange people_ , he seems to say, his flat tone betraying irritation and confusion.

"They won't kill us or anything."

Ben looks up sharply. "Did you miss the part where that bounty hunter had me at blaster point? He held my lightsaber against me. He had a Force-dampener."

Rey manages to shrug her un-wounded shoulder. "He won't – _they_ won't, now that…just…" she bites her tongue.

"I need more than that," he tells her.

"We can trust him."

" _Him_?"

She shakes her head. "Them."

"Who is he?"

"I'll tell you when I'm not about to pass out," she reminds him firmly. The second she bites back at him she regrets it. There's really no easy way to explain how she knows the character of that blue-eyed man, the one whose name she never even really knew. Ben wouldn't understand it. At worse, he'd probably kill him, and despise her, never look at her like she was important anymore.

"Guess this was a bad idea," she admits, managing to look at the damage on her clothes. "I really liked this shirt."

Ben tenses at the displeasure ripping at her nerves. "Well, next time, do what I do. Go with black." He undoes the dressing, working quickly with theflexclamp. He's trying, she realizes.

After a moment he tears open a packet of synthflesh. In a few minutes Ben will have to insert it into her wound to expand, so she won't end up with a gaping hole.

"I stole water from him once. I was starving," she begins. "He caught me, and he could have beaten me or killed me, but he didn't. He – " she smiles from a memory. "He was the first man with the same accent as mine. And his eyes…they were the first blue eyes I had ever seen in my life. They're like Luke's. I had never seen that before." Her skin is cool, though her face is flushed rosy red.

Ben doesn't like it. He leans forward. "There's something you're not telling me."

Rey rapidly looks away for an answer to be written in the walls. "I…I can't _tell_ you."

"Show me, then."

"I am definitely not showing you _that_ ," she snorts.

Ben's heartbeat skips. Her face screams, _you'll hate me,_ buthe waits out the stare.

Rey relents, swallowing. _Please don't hate me_. "He was being nice the first time. I thought maybe he could give me some of his food or water if I actually proposed giving something back. So I…traded in a…sexual favor with him."

All at once, Ben feels like he's been punched in the stomach. He actually leans back, having the mind to actually sit down and not rest on his heels anymore. His eyes, so expressive and large, bulge.

This woman is suddenly a different person. Of course she would have had to do undignified things to care for herself, but, for something like this, she's done something that…he's never done before.

Jedi do not…do that. Not even the wicked ones. It is one of the highest forms of emotional corruption that it would only sully a practitioner's connection to the Force. Ben may have acknowledged that his grandfather, Anakin Skywalker, fathered children, but –

"It was consensual," her voice breaks through quietly. "I – he was just traveling through. I needed to eat. He had money. It's not like I ever imagined I'd run into him. _Much_ less with you," she admits.

He's deathly silent. But instead of fuming in rage, like a volcano, he…it's like he's shattered glass, and he's about to break. He stays horribly still.

"How old were you?"

Rey hesitates. Why is her age so important to him?

"Rey! Maker, were you a child?"

Oh…That's why. "I was seventeen, I think."

Ben groans and makes an ugly, disgusted face. He actually gets to his feet, which makes everything worse because now she's _physically_ beneath him.

She wants to rip her face off, she's so red. This is what shame feels like. Like when he found out she killed that Twi'lek girl.

"You _were_ a child. He looks like he could be someone's father."

"He _is_ someone's father," she informs him, projecting how unfair his judgment feels to her. "You've never been as desperate as I have. It could have been a lot worse, you know."

This makes him stamp down his shattering ire. Ben shifts on his feet for a bit until he sighs and comes back down. He actually leans in and brushes her hair from her face, kindly. "Did he hurt you."

"No. He..he was gentle. He was…he was good. I mean, I didn't complain."

"You didn't know any better," he says automatically, needing to swallow away the trickle of warmth and weakness coming from her.

"I knew enough at that age. I offered, actually."

She offered. She offered _sex_ , her own precious body, to a man twice her age, and certainly more unattractive than him.

An idea forms in his head. It's untrustworthy, but it won't go away.

"I…I have no reason to ask this. But. Will you show me? Not everything, but…in between."

This is exactly what Rey was afraid of. He's so…he has to _know_ everything. He has such an issue with control that it threatens to envelop someone like her, whom he has a delicate, confusing fixation on. She would normally (she _should_ ) tell him to kriff off, you _sicko_ , and get your rocks off somewhere else.

But that's…well, she wants to provoke something in him. She is a damned human being. She may still technically be a virgin, but there is a challenge rising in her, to affirm there is nothing wrong with who she is or what she's done.

Sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

When she reaches out, Ben suspects he may have made a mistake. He's afraid to see her – and _him_ , the man outside – caught like animals rutting in the shadows.

It's just enough. Enough to make him not vomit and enough to make him...look closer. Become drawn, wanting to see more…feel more…

" _Two jugs of water, and twenty portions." Her/his belly's shriveled and lowing. Numbers are all that matter._

 _The man wears no armor, and under his half-done shirt his chest is scarred from some acid burn. "How 'bout this cup? 'S gold from Nespin. Good for converters, but I'm sure you'll get a pretty credit from the tribal villages out here._

 _A pause. "The cup, too."_

 _The man hesitates, skimming down her small curves and lean, strong legs._

 _After a moment he tosses her/him the cup. "Take it, lass. Go on home. You're too sweet-lookin' for what you're askin' for."_

 _He sounds upset. This isn't what she/he came for, to be rejected like this. It's a kindness that she/he doesn't even recognize as kindness._

 _The man has his back to her, leaving her/him to finger the hem of her/his shirt. In a calculated move it comes off, over her/his shoulders._

 _He turns around, finally. "Kriff," he mutters._

" _Two jugs of water," she/he reminds him, reaching for the drawstring of her trousers. "Twenty portions. Not credits…and that shiny, useless cup."_

 _The man scoffs, amused at her/his boldness. "You run an unfair price."_

 _She/he blinks, impressed at how she hasn't run off just yet. "Sit down," she/he commands in a shaky voice._

 _What happens next is a blur of feelings and snapshots: the pull from her/his back of being discovered half-naked, the way his (the rogue's) bright eyes soften. Something that pinches and stings from deep below, in the cavern between her legs, before. There is a TINY (almost muffled) amount of lust, a gasp and an arching of her back in a way he's never seen from her before. Grinding hotly against his lap without knowing how or why. And a look of absolute adulation, ecstasy he's never experienced, as a spiritual devout, that he feels he needs to rip his chest and stomach apart to let it escape._

Ben lets go. He hides, buries, the reaction. He cannot let her know how he feels, seeing her like that. He stares back at the medpac. Small, stubborn, sweet Rey. His Jedi girl, his companion. The day to his night. Corrupted; come alive through fire and touch.

His jaw is tight from reluctance. What does he say? If only it were perfectly acceptable to walk out of the room right now and leave her.

Still. He's the one taking care of her. Touching her. _She trusts him_. He remembers with pleasure how she came alive, all heat and edge, threatening the ugly man she'd kill him for hurting Ben. It is possessive, and his equally vindictive heart swells from it.

She's sweaty from the wound, the adrenaline that still pulses underneath her skin. The curve of her throat and neck shine from a light above them. Ben follows the rhythm of her heartbeat, drumming steadily underneath her neck.

Meanwhile he feels ugly with his scar and his nose and his too-large body overwhelming hers, even on bended knee.

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

"He _did_ hurt you."

Inwardly Rey disagrees. He – Niall – hadn't meant to, back then. His fingers felt foreign inside her and his nail scratched her rosy flesh underneath, but he had apologized and…kissed her neck.

"No more than you did. At first," Rey points out, nodding her head to his scar. "I did _that_ to your face, remember?"

"He's a rogue."

"I didn't _ask_ for him to be here," she replies, exasperated at his complaints. "He can't frighten _you_. He may be a free agent, but he's a good man. Trust me."

Against his nature, Ben considers her request. It hardly lasts five seconds before he throws one more grievance.

"He's so _unattractive_ , Rey," he criticizes, trying not to laugh.

It's probably the most unspoken thing floating between them in this ridiculous conversation, but it's enough to make Rey hit the back of her head against the wall.

"Yeah, well," Rey admits as she shakes her head in disapproval. "Although, to be fair, I can do a _lot_ better."

His strong nose is inches from her cheek. She can count the beauty marks on his face. She can even see, from here, the crease-like patterns of his skin along the scar.

Why does he keep it? He could have removed it, surgically. He would have had access to it from the First Order. She hopes Snoke didn't force him to keep it. But would that mean he had kept the scar through his own volition, as proof of his shame, or as a souvenir, a link to some obsession?

She gulps, finding her mouth is very dry. He's the closest to her face since…since he held her when she cried over Jess. Only now it's unbearably stark, the light from the overhead lamp bleaching their blank, awaiting expressions.

She's breathing too much. Her breath must smell. Her face must look strange, so close like this…

His mouth is open. So is hers. He's moving - !

Snap!

"Ahhhh – haha!" Rey yelps. The adrenaline of pain strangles her so quickly that she laughs. "Mother…fucker - !"

"Stop swearing. Just because you're in the company of thieves…" Ben quips with a smile pulling at his lips. In his large hand is a vial of synthflesh that he shot into her wound. It expands like a fresh blaster bolt, pushing so much pressure into her that she can't think. Her skin feels like it's burning, like fire is lying in the torn flesh.

In another moment her eyelids flutter, and she feels like she's falling.

"Ben…"

"It's all right. I've got you. Rest, Rey," he whispers in her hair. She's out before she can reach out and try to pull on his shirt, to keep him there with her. She was so close, she almost kissed him….


	13. Chapter 13

The Call to the Light

Chapter 13 - Complete

It's cold when Rey wakes up. Her blanket's tucked around her and her shoulder _aches_. Now that she's rested (for however long), she'll have to go through some focusing exercises to tamper down the pain.

There's hardly any desire to get out of bed. Dreams of Jess and sunlight, and the smell of blast-burning bodies and antiseptic make her stiff. The relative peace she and Ben shared, even though it was more of a begrudging respect of space, is replaced with this invasion of strangers. Their privacy, their small little world of silences and muted curiosity about each other, is like a forgotten age – beyond her room are four scattered, anxious and loud minds.

No wonder Ben acts so sensitively around others.

And that, of course, leads her to the poised moment between them, where Ben's face was so, so close to hers and yet they were pulled so far apart, about to snap. She feels like they are two uprooted things, rudely cast away from each other. It makes her ache on a level apart from the hole in her shoulder.

Rey eventually has to push off the covers and talk to the other man on the ship. Niall, she'll have to get used to saying, is sprawled across the long bench, and accompanied by the human hybrid "Terric."

Both sit up straight when she approaches. She meets only the older man's gaze. "I want to talk to you, Niall. In private."

His blue eyes are bright as bulbs, expressing anticipation in his tanned face. He's grown a moustache and beard since she's last seen him. Her skin crawls, but she's not sure if it's because she dislikes him or because of the knowledge she was once naked in front of him.

At least she's covered herself in a shawl against the cold.

"Whatever the lady says. Scram, lad," he says to the younger man.

"You can – it's fine. Um," Rey finds herself struggling to make complete sentences. She thought about inviting him to her room, but all of a sudden it feels like a bad idea.

She needs privacy, though. To talk to him.

"Sorry, um, did anyone feed you? I don't know how long – "

"It's all right," Niall explains, blithely gesturing to the storage rooms. "Captain Dark One lent us something to eat a while ago."

"Oh. Okay…"

"Your name's not Bria, is it?" says "Terric."

Rey observes the casual indifference laced in his posture, but Ben's right – he's fuming from the inside, definitely not happy about being on the same ship as Kylo Ren (in his eyes).

She won't notice until later that, just as she didn't know Niall's name, he never learned hers.

"It's Rey. I suppose your name's still Terric?"

He shrugs, which is all Rey cares about as she nods at Niall to move somewhere private. Her room is the only option.

Poe's retold stories of how he'd woken up next to people he didn't remember sleeping with. There was one time another pilot friend of theirs, Snap Wexley, accidentally reunited with an "old flame," and he was red and speechless the whole afternoon from having to speak with her again. Never did Rey think she could be in the exact situation as theirs. Ever.

She didn't even remember his voice. It had been so long, and lost in the depths of her wasteland of a life on Jakku. Now she feels a little taller than when she last saw him, in his private tent in Niima Outpost.

He's better at schooling his features than Leia. That was one thing that, as much as she despised him for throwing her out of his tent when she was so damned thirsty, she admired about him. He always acted like he was strolling down a beach even as he was shooting his way to escape from other thieves in the Outpost.

Except that now he squints a little at her, like she's falling out of focus. "So. Jedi."

Oh, right. That's…something she has to clarify. "Yeah. That's, um. Recent."

"Really," he deadpans. "You're the Jedi, the one everyone's talking about."

"What do you mean, everyone?"

"I mean, everyone who's seen you twirling with your… _lightsaber_ _blade_ ," he says clumsily.

That's the push off the cliff for Rey to spit out a hysterical laugh that won't stop. She's clutching her stomach and bracing herself against the wall in minutes.

"What the fuck….How is this happening?" she begs, though Niall looks utterly lost and is unable to help her.

"Oh, wait a minute," Rey smartens. "You start bragging about how you bedded a Jedi – "

"Well, technically it was in a chair," he adds.

Scowling, Rey warns him. "I'm telling you: don't say a word about it. Don't even think it. He'll kill you."

He looks down on the ground. "Force tricks don't work on me."

Rey balks. "Why not?" Not that she's particularly bothered with that, but it's worth asking.

"A couple reasons. Could be because I'm actually a changeling."

Pin drop.

Her hazel eyes blink, memorizing his tanned face and broken nose even more. "W-what?"

"Well, you know…I'm a Mirialan. M'face is plastered all over the Holonet's most wanted, have been for four, five years. Far easier to travel around as a human."

Roughly the same time since she first met him on Jakku, then. "So…"

"Glad to see you made it off Jakku, but the way."

When Rey looks back up at him, she's pleased and relieved to see a softened, kind side to him. The one she knew made him a safe person, back when he spared her a beating after drinking his water. The way his lips bend in a familiar half-smile makes her remember more than just her blood running like fire and his hands on her body.

And he's a _father_. A fatherless woman like her understands, now, how she decided that night to go back to him, to make a trade so she wouldn't have to feel like she was straight-off begging. Because he still had a trace of a moral compass lingering inside him.

How foolish she was, how, after he had pitied her and initially let her go with his own jug, she had removed her shirt and sat on his lap like she knew what she was doing. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Not as stupid as dreaming of kissing Kylo Ren, pre-defection. Or almost kissing him hours ago.

"I guess you're dying to know exactly how I got off that stupid sand rock." She's eager to get rid of the awkwardness of him, this scruffy but still smooth adult man, so she begins to tell Niall how she found a little BB-8 droid that held a map the First Order wanted. It's difficult, at first, but she manages to get all the facts straight and in the right order.

Niall listens the whole time. He blinks owlishly, something Rey treats as a new endearment. He chuckles at the parts he really doesn't believe, but otherwise he seems to take all of it pretty well.

"Gods and stars, girl. I – I could sell a story like that," he muses in disbelief.

"So," Rey continues. "You have a daughter."

"Aye."

"Is she…my age?"

He shifts his gaze. "Yeah, well…I hadn't known she was my kid for a while. Mind you, I'm not in the business of pleasuring other girls your age, even if they are as," he clears his throat, "confident as you."

Rey's eyebrows furrow. "I thought…wasn't that sex?"

He balks a moment, reminding Rey of how her stunted, misplaced innocence on some things was often reflected in others' quizzical, at times pitying, looks.

"No, girl, I didn't, y'know, put it _in_ you," he mutters while scratching his ear. "I had a 'bout of mendicitis and didn't want to infect you. Wasn't gonna go balls-deep in a virgin like you. Though I have to admit, 's not like I needed it with you writhing and rubbing yourself over my –"

"Okay, okay! Kriff," she smacks her hand over her eyes, like that will prevent his obscenities from becoming permanent. Time to get serious. "You held a blaster and a lightsaber at my companion. You took advantage of his mind. A minute later, you dropped everything and asked us to free your friends and take you with us. And to help you rescue your daughter from slavers, and it's all because you remember me? What made you think I would just…let this all happen? What makes you think that Ben and I can trust you? The four of you outnumber us!"

"But you're two Jedi, aren't ya?" he tries to correct her.

Rey shakes her head. "Two Jedi against a very smart criminal who's a Force-resistant changeling."

Niall holds out his hands. "I won't sell you out. I don't swing with those First Order pricks. All I care about is my girl. I'm getting up in years and I figures, this man be the one good thing I fight for in my life. Soon as I saw you come out, I…I didn't know you were a Jedi, but as soon as I saw you were with him, and he was under your leash – it was like a sign, all right? Can't explain it, I just felt it. Still do."

Ben's under nobody's leash. He's been under Snoke's for so long that it sickens her to think he can only be under hers now.

"Look," Niall says, fidgeting. "You're not gonna hear me say murder is unforgivable. I've killed my own mother. Long story," he cuts in just as Rey gapes, aghast. "But this guy's a total nut job. Y'hear the things said about him? I mean, you can insist we're the bad guys all you want. I gotta have my own reassurances we won't be killed in our sleep, y'know?"

"He's changed. And he's my friend. You don't know him like I do."

"Really? I may be a killer, but I'm a _hired_ killer. What's _he_?"

Rey thinks very carefully. She realizes she'll have to do this a lot, explain Ben's newfound mercy like she's begging for it herself.

"You were alive when the Empire first fell, right?" she began. "When Vader, Darth Vader, was the right-hand man of it all. D'you know how it all ended?"

"Yeah, of course I do. Luke Skywalker."

"Right. Vader's son. Right at the last moment, he saw his son, really saw him, and he became…good. He destroyed the Emperor and died himself. That funny pilot from Niima Outpost was telling the truth the whole time. That man out there," Rey said, cocking her head at the door, "Is Vader's grandson, Luke Skywalker's nephew. He's changed. He's suspicious and he's an…absolute dick sometimes, but…I've seen him. I know him. If a man like Vader can become good again, so can he."

Niall nods, very much like he had been a father all this time. "Girl, that's what they all say. All the one's who've been beaten and murdered."

The cold finally bites along her collar and deep in her bones. She _knows_ that, she's not stupid. And yet it feels like she is a child claiming a Krayt dragon's innocence.

The whole galaxy knows him as Kylo Ren. Ben will always live with Kylo Ren beneath him, no matter how far into the future he goes. No matter how hard Rey struggles to forget it.

The last argument in her arsenal comes to the surface. "You won't find your daughter. Not without Ben's help. And he needs this, so luckily we will."

Ssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

From the cockpit, Ben's sensed the minute Rey awoke. By instinct he had meant to go to her, but held back when he sensed her conflicted feelings over _him_ , Niall.

He waits, hands drumming the armrests and unable to bury himself in meditation. Not with the wise-mouthed Bothan nearby. Not with the scent of Rey's skin and split flesh hanging over him.

He has to close his eyes against the dizzying blue of hyperspace. Until Rey is finished, Ben observes the fuel gauge and atmo-tank with dull anticipation. They need to refuel, badly.

He cannot wait; he's out of his seat and striding to her when she and the changeling emerge from her room.

Ignoring this (he had thought that only he had the privilege to enter that space with her), he meets her gaze and leads her back to the cockpit.

"What are you thinking?" she surprises her by saying.

Ben doesn't hesitate. "We need to get rid of the _Falcon_. It's widely recognized, both by the criminals my father worked for and by the First Order. _He_ knows about this ship," he added in a delicate tone, making Rey's pulse jump. Memories of this ship, running through as a toddler to helping Chewie repair anything when his parents needed to talk, all have been on display for Snoke to peer through.

Under the shawl, still pale from her injury, Rey looks smaller, less resolute.

"You're cold," he realizes suddenly. He's diverted the rest of the energy to push them through hyperspace, a practical move that left no room for his new "guests" to speak against.

"You haven't meditated in a while." When he puts a hand over her shoulder to draw the cloth closer to her, she fidgets a little.

"I'm all right," she says lightly. "Look, have they – has he talked to you about his daughter?"

Hot breath suddenly needs to be expelled from inside him. Surprisingly, Ben doesn't know how to object.

"We're too far from any Resistance activity, or First Order," she supplies, frustratingly hopeful.

"It doesn't matter; my face is all over the Holonet." They'll need to read about this "Resistance leak" once they're out of hyperspace. He'll even try to communicate through the Force long-distance with his mother (though he hasn't had to do that in over ten years).

Rey smirks. "I doubt that will stop you."

"This is a waste of time."

"It is not," she corrects him sternly. "I told you before, but you just don't seem to get it. You need to do this."

"Why?" he demands, impatient. "Why should we care about some careless girl who fell into a slave ring?"

"Oh, my kriff," Rey mutters, framing her frayed face with her hands. "I can't believe I'm about to say this. Your grandfather was a slave."

The information is so bizarre that Ben sniffs his disbelief. No one knows more than him of how different his mother and father were – the princess and the scoundrel, people used to tell him. This, though, is unsurprising, in that Han Solo probably did reveal his pathetic childhood to the equally unfortunate Jakku scavenger. "Is that the story Han told you?"

Rey's jaw drops. Ben isn't sure why, but inwardly he begins a short, quick argument on how he doesn't care for honoring his dead father's past, and that in terms of redemption, he will not demean his training to a few ridiculous vigilante stunts, freeing slaves and rescuing lost women.

But then Rey's jaw snaps shut. "No, you…that makes sense. Um, no, Ben. Your…it's Anakin. Anakin Skywalker. He was born a slave, on Tattooine, the first nine years of his life."


	14. Chapter 14

The Call to the Light

Chapter 14

The cold seeps into his skin like a kind of detachment. Ben doesn't speak for a minute. All he can think of is the word "impossible."

Rey's cheeks flush guiltily. "It's true." It is the way she deflects her deep golden eyes, as if she loathes sharing this information with him.

His grandfather. Darth Vader, the more-than-man spirit that gave Ben more purpose for most of his life; the dark warrior who has embodied power and strength, more so than the Emperor…

"H-how do you know this?" Luke. Uncle Luke must have told him. How unfair. He was five years old when he first asked about his grandparents. The ones who raised his mother and uncle, the family before his own. He believes now, if only his family had been truthful about their dark past, perhaps he would have been strong enough…known enough, to resist Snoke's seduction. Guidance, as he thought of it back then.

When he looks back at Rey, he zeroes in on the hesitation written in her face.

His own hardens, daring her to lie to him. "Tell me."

Steeling herself, Rey answers plainly: "Because I've talked to him."

That seizes him in his tracks. Disbelief and loss wash over his stiff form.

"Liar," he accuses in a hoarse whisper.

"I've seen his Force-ghost. The first night on Ach-to. Luke…summoned him, I think. I've spoken to him twice more since you started teaching me." She stands up straighter, forces her eyes to meet his. "I have never lied to you."

In this steel confession, Ben becomes weak. As if he learned that…well, there's no "as if" about it: The man he's idolized more than his own parents, unnatural enough for any child, who never came to him in the thousands of prayers at night, has appeared to Rey. Rey. Always Rey.

He holds a hand out to sit somewhere, sinking like death into it.

"How…?"

"I don't know. Leia…well, you know her, obviously," she babbles tactlessly. "He pretty much destroyed her life. She doesn't want anything to do with the Jedi because of…Vader. He – the other, Anakin – he's avoided coming to you on some sense of respect, you know." Rey takes a shaky breath. In this, Ben secretly appreciates how much this is weakening her. "Ben, I don't know why they didn't…say anything."

"You knew," Ben counters, realizing fully. "We encountered each other on the battlefield six times. You never said a word."

"Well, I didn't owe you anything back then," she replies drily. "I hated you and I didn't want you to know. It felt like I had some sort of power over you."

Ben must stand up and take a clean breath, in and out, to forget how heavy his lightsaber feels and how badly he wants to cut something to pieces. Wrong, so wrong, all of it.

"And now you're telling me…you manipulative wench," he spits. It's been so long since he's craved his helmet, the mask that could protect him from his pouring emotions.

"I'm not manipulating you," Rey bites out, cross. "I'm trying to help you."

"You care more about thieves and liars than your training," he declares, lips peeled from his teeth.

"I care more about _you_ than you realize. I don't care about meditation or mental shields or lifting things with my mind," she plows on before Ben can focus more on the first sentence. "Who _cares_ about that? This! This is what the Jedi are meant for. Saving people. Protecting people. What are we supposed to do after we kill Snoke? After the war's over?" she demands in a near-whisper.

There is a pinprick of fear coming from her, so slight that it's enough to agitate Ben as well. "What, are we supposed to just disappear from the entire galaxy? You're a wanted man, Ben, they'll execute you - "

She will not get to finish that sentence because Ben will not allow her to. The fears she unconsciously projects are his own, having been buried in a place that could have been preserved for later, _much_ later. He doesn't care if Snoke is destroyed a month from now or ten.

Without thinking he crowds her space and locks her in his arms, squeezing both shoulders in an attempt to silence her. "Damn them all – damn the helpless, and damn the galaxy," he swears. "The only future I care about is with – "

"Sorry, um…"

Both Jedi turn to the Tholothian, Korla, who looks apologetic.

"Look, can we talk? About how we're going to get Niall's kid back? Just, so we have an idea," she finishes lamely, eyeing the way Ben's posture overwhelms Rey's.

Her wound stings, which alarms Ben as he steps back.

"Yeah, we'll – y'know," Rey attempts as she sidesteps out of the cockpit. Counting to ten – then twenty, just because – Ben follows.

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

"Tell us how she went missing."

The six of them surround a star map of the Outer Rim. Next to it is a hologram of a sweet-faced, pleasant-looking Mirialan with purple hair and dark eyes, and a human with olive complexion. Both look to be Rey's age, university students smiling from some hyperspace trip.

Niall looks Ben in the eye. "Her mum said she was on some tour to do some project on the poor and whatnot. She and her friend Fordo must've got too curious about the locals and got picked up by some slave trafficking drivers. I never met the girl, never talked to her. I only have a few pictures."

Korla speaks up. "She's a changeling, too. Just like Niall. She'd not go unnoticed, but it's been months." She looks pretty sober. "So she's…pretty special. A girl like her; they'd notice if she was a changeling quick enough. I've heard of some slavers that look for…specialties. Maybe even Force-sensitive aliens. Younglings, even."

Rey perks up at that, meeting Ben's bright eyes. Now he's interested.

"Where are we heading right now?"

"The Jupar system, a planet named Ri'yohh," Niall tells Rey. "It was the last place she checked in with her mum. Terric can check the Holonet for any reports on slave kidnappings and we can land there, do some digging up."

"What about First Order channels? If they're close, they'll recognize the _Falcon_ in an instant," Ben cautions.

Rey tilts her head. "You don't know if this system is frequented by the First Order?"

"Not that I know of, but they may have expanded their presence in two weeks. They're known to act erratically after suffering a huge loss," Ben tells her, thinking of Hux's often nervous attempt at unpredictability.

Korla is shaking her head. "If this is such a widely-recognized ship, then maybe we should trade it in."

Both Rey and Ben lean in to profess their disagreement at the same time. When they exchange gazes at each other, the others watch them carefully.

Rey begins to explain, but Ben's voice takes a somber, almost shy tone. "This was once my father's ship."

Briefly, Rey wonders how widely known Han Solo is. Petty scoundrels like their new passengers would have grown up in the same circles as Ben's father, the reckless smuggler who married a princess.

Niall nods to himself. "So perhaps we should start thinking of getting our own set of engines. Look," he says to Ben and Rey. "You've helped us out this far. You two have clearly got…other esteemed things to get along with."

"We don't have any money," Terric adds, glowering at the star map.

Niall's face scrunches up in distaste. "What do we need money for?"

Rey quietly admits to herself that, as distracting as these strangers are, she doesn't want them to leave. There is potential in them forcing her and Ben to socialize with them, much less help them. Her heart and soul have already risen to the challenge. After all her time with the Resistance, devoting her training to missions where the objective sometimes didn't feel clear, right now this is all she's ever wanted. It's the most important cause a person can devote to: saving a woman's life.

If only her companion truly felt the same way. It is a heavy, aching fact in her, knowing that Ben isn't evil, anymore…but he may never be really good, either. She doesn't think she will have the strength to accept that for the rest of her life, as Leia has.

Not even the way her blood warmed a little at the way he's looked at her, these past few days, will help.

"So what do you think?" Niall's voice cuts in. "Think a couple Jedi can help an absent dad like me?"

 _Yes,_ she thinks immediately. She faces Ben again, face composed and ready for his reaction. He is impossibly guarded, in appearance and emotion. Like his damned mask. She knows, though, as her heart beats a little faster: he needs this.

Mentioning Anakin has started to grow under his resolve. Also, he'll agree with whatever she decides. He'll pitch a fight like no other, to make her hurt, but they both know she'll win.

His eyes dim in acceptance. "When do we reach the system?"

"About a half-hour."

Ben speaks as if he is giving orders again. "Notify me before we drop out of hyperspace. If the First Order is present, we run. I don't care. Rey," he addresses her finally. "With me, please."

Inwardly, Rey dislikes at the way she's summoned. His new coolness is a contrast from the on-edge moment between them in the cockpit not a few minutes ago. Though she shivers at the way he crowded in and professed something…something forbidden, she holds back the urge to roll her eyes before following him down the hallway.

She now regrets mentioning Anakin. The moment to properly discuss it has been stolen from them, and there's not much time until this new…errand of theirs.

They reach a quieter part of the ship when he faces her. "We need to fix your arm if you plan to go down there with them."

"Oh, so you're allowing me to go out with our friends?" she observes pleasantly.

" _Your_ friends. They're not mine yet," he points out before adding, "Besides, I don't think you can keep out of trouble for too long."

Scowling, Rey looks back at her bandaged shoulder. She's thankful he's admitting he cannot stop her from leaving the ship, even if he can't with that price on his head. Her injury throbs less, but she's reluctantly suspicious of what Ben isn't saying yet. He wants to heal her, using the purest form of Jedi training. It's doubtful this will come easy for him, and half-assed attempts with Light Force abilities could backfire, she's sure.

"Um. I'm sorry about Anak - "

"I don't – I prefer not to talk about that just yet," Ben interrupts, shutting his eyes.

She wants to, though. There's so much he doesn't know, yet. _He's stayed away because of Leia. If you were Luke's, you would've known him, but he's in penance with his daughter. He loves you. He loves you so, so much…_

"I can help," she offers, referring to her arm. "In case things get too…" _If something goes wrong. If you can't do it._

These could easily be Ben's thoughts, too. He gazes straight ahead, above her so that his eyes appear so open. "Right….I need to meditate. Will you join me?"

The way his voice softens, like clouds she can rest against, make her aware of the thin film of sweat at her collarbone, and her frayed hair. Ohh, such an invitation. It is literally sitting on the floor next to him – not very romantic – but there is a promise, a hope in his voice that makes her sense some quiet, hidden warmth from him.

"My room all right?"

Sssssssssssssssssssssssss

Back in the main cabin, Niall stares thoughtlessly back at the foreign, happy girl-woman that is apparently his offspring. This girl, Lorra, was a university student, a funny child who wanted to explore everything and couldn't shut up around others (according to her mother, who said this with pure endearment). All good grades and a personality to boot, quirky and sharp as a dagger; that, he knows, makes her his child, all right.

Niall's never had a smile like the girl in the hologram, an endless, beaming grin that splits her face into some foolish impression. The boy next to her could possibly be a boyfriend. What would a middle-class young thing with looks and brains be doing out in the Outer Rim, dancing near so much danger?

Korla comes up next to him with a low voice. "Hey. Everything ok?"

"Well…" he admits, not exactly 'okay.' "Why?"

"'Cause Terric's been more moody than the way the other bounty hunters harassed him," she points out, staring deliberately at Niall's ear and nothing else. "Ever since we all ended up on this ship."

Niall begins to scratch his head while angling over to Terric, who's going over possible route trajectories. The kid's normally so bored without use of the Holonet he's like a fidgety eight-year-old human. Now, though, there's a sullen air about him that Niall doesn't feel to comforted about.

"I'll keep him with me when we go planetside. We'll split up, you stick with Rey, leave the furry one with the other fella."

"The Jedi?" Korla repeats doubtfully, not without a touch of intrigue.

"Aye, the Jedi. Do your feminine thing and weave your manners around her." At the Tholothian's gracefully arched brow, Niall adds, "She's been cooped up with Lord Broody Pants that she's probably forgotten what friendly talk with the same sex is like. Be a nice girl, would ya?"

Korla's bright green eyes are awfully lovely, but right now they zero in on Niall's suggestion with a laser focus. Ever since he confessed at how he knew this young lady, Rey (the nasty little human fighter on Jakku who rode his hand to oblivion), Korla's normally jest-filled barbs and glares have turned cold as steel in space. It's not like he and the former entertainer are attached, yeah, yet somehow he's found himself in a near-marital mess – caught between some obscure lay in the past and a lady he's savagely flirted with.

 _Rey's_ turned into quite the thoroughbred. A gods-damned Jedi. Imagine…he's grown up with the rumors. He'd done some stunt as a mechanic's assistant close to the Battle of Endor, a young bag of limbs as a child after his mother's tyranny, and he swears he saw Luke Skywalker once. The man wore all black just like this new one, this recent scion of that cursed family line.

A Jedi, a legendary symbol of holier-than-thou goodness. And Niall's _serviced_ one. _Rey_ may have propositioned herself as equal trade for some decent supplies to live another day, but he understood, when she left his tent with her head held high, that he was doing _her_ a better favor, and he was left feeling like he had given something up, like his organs had been scooped out raw to be distributed at her pleasure. It was as if he was the wounded woman, and she the man who delivered Niall's fate with her weight atop him and her cries piercing the air.

And don't think Uncle Niall hasn't noticed the way she's turned all fawn-like in front of the Broody One.

It's enough to turn him back to drink.


	15. Chapter 15

The Call to the Light

Chapter 15 complete

In Ben's room, Rey lays down on the spare mattress with her shirt half-undone. The synthflesh is supposed to be replaced with smaller pieces to encourage the regrowth of natural flesh and muscles. Ben's explained carefully that he will have to remove it when he's ready, right before he plans to speed up the regrowth process.

That's not what makes Rey nervous. She's lying on his bed, where, not too long ago, she found him writhing from violent memories and screams.

Ben proposed forging a connection through the Force to make the healing more effective. They had meditated for what felt like hours, the two of them suspended in some ongoing, cloudlike loop of time, _sooo_ near each other but afraid to touch.

Rey decided Ben would be the one to connect her, just like he did on Sher-hatha when the probe droid couldn't find them underwater. She had been prepared for that too-intimate latch of his, connecting everything from his errant thoughts to the rushing current of his blood. The two of them actually came out of the meditation sweating. Still, it felt like that was going to be a premature version of what the youngest Skywalker was about to do.

"You sure we shouldn't wait until after?" she asks.

"No," Ben says quietly. "I can't leave the ship, and I'd prefer one of us is able to keep an eye on them."

He finally drops to his knees and slides over. His shirt collar dangles under him as he leans down, giving Rey a glimpse of his milky chest. She blinks into the light above them for distraction.

"I may put you under, in case it's too much."

"That's all right." _Just do it_ , she thinks.

His large, slender hands hover over her skin, feeling her pulse. When she looks straight up, his hair eclipses the light.

The connection is there, but it's thread-thin. He goes deeper, sliding through like –

"Ah," Rey flinches just a bit.

"Sorry," Ben mutters in a rare offer.

"'S fine," Rey replies quickly. Her breath hitches. His hands. They may as well be clad in black, and him as well, for the way they are shaking. Just like the first time he tread through her mind on Starkiller Base. Nervous energy clings to him, making the thread between them throb and ache.

The gaping hollow in her shivers, making Rey tense up.

 _Easy_ , Ben tells her with false calm. Fingers work to undo the synthflesh that stubbornly clings to her tender muscle.

Rey shuts her eyes and lips, digs her feet into the mattress, clenching her fists at her sides.

There's a beat of silence when he reaches out, brushing her hair back from her forehead. Like she is a child; until it lingers like sunlight at her temple, trailing down to her jaw, neck (she shivers inside but does not show it), collarbone, down to her rigidly beating heart.

"Easy," he whispers, voice heavy with hidden strength. Three fingers remain on the space above her chest, cool points like constellations. When Rey breathes, her ribcage expands so her skin remains in contact.

It's not working.

 _I can't – you have to go deeper_ , she tells him through the Force. Breaths come in and out like pinched puffs. _Need more,_ she tells herself.

 _There - !_ Something clicks, activates like an incineration. Rey's instincts make her tighten again, and above her Ben gasps in surprise.

 _I need -_! He thinks, conscious thought impossible.

"Ohhh," he breathes. Everything – the faint invisible hairs on her skin, the amber pigment in her eyes, her parchment-dry lips – all comes crashing into him and he cannot protect himself.

Ben's never been more fixated on her or anyone else more in his entire life: everything from the ghost-thin hairs on the planes of skin, to the pulse dancing underneath, to the molecules of her own marrow imprint on him, and he is powerless, awed at the depth of this connection.

Inside her is the wound, raw like a cavern freshly carved from lava. He seeks to bring water there, the barest healing element to soothe the pains. The Force is woven like music to a chord, layered through the air between them and through themselves.

Below, Rey whimpers. Her legs kick instinctively, trying to release some form of objection. "Ahhh - !"

Ben is fraught. One hand remains over the wound, the flesh already growing in, beginning to expel the synthflesh.

He's doing it. He has no idea how effortless that took, but all he knows right now is her – the millions of sinew-threads woven around her, electric and brilliant under him, pulsing with so much life that it is a terrible realization, to know he has tried to snuff it out in other beings.

In his realization, he does not take care of how he leans back, the other hand against the lower part of her stomach –

"OH! Oh," Rey yelps, stifling a moan. Her body betrays her, molten fire and starlight pressuring to cling to that hand. Ben's head is screaming at the spike of intensity coming from her. He's caused it, how?! What has he _done_?

Her shoulder burns numb, but deep in her belly, something dangerous swirls in a way that makes her so _angry_ at him. Angry for denying her, calling her a fool, yet setting her on fire by pure accident.

Rey grips his wrist like a serpent, snapping it in place as she fuses her Force to his, channeling herself back to the pull of the Light.

The new source is hot, hot as a sun, and Ben cannot keep it in him. He shakes, forgetting the catch of her blood that has to flow the right way.

She clenches the sheets in one hand to stifle an oncoming cry, but then the synthflesh decides to pull out, tearing itself from newly-grown real flesh, like removing a foreign object rubbing against her.

"AGGHHHH!"

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

The others aboard the ship finally can't take it anymore. Niall barges in wide-eyed, not sure what he was about to see.

On the mattress, Rey lies clutching her shoulder, suddenly pink like a newborn. The man, Ben, is knelt near her, hissing and bent over in some excruciating irritation.

Or…."You two need a minute?"

"We're _fine_ ," he snaps, hair stuck with sweet-smelling sweat against his blush-stricken face. "Get out!"

Niall balks. "Droppin' outta hyperspace in five," he announces with a near-casual air. The room smells too much like heavy breathing and human heat.

The way the too-tall man remains hunched, shuddering, unable to stomp over and chase him out makes Niall think he's definitely interrupted _something_.

Rey barely notices him leave. Her skin is tingling from a mixture of icy raindrops and melting sunlight. Her shoulder no longer hurts. The deep echo is gone, replaced by a wholeness she barely believes is there.

"How. How did…" her fingers clumsily brush against the skin there. "Holy shit."

Ben leans in, examining the same spot with flushed focus. He is quiet, pensive in a way that seems he is trying to disprove what's there.

His first attempt at a Jedi Master skill, a talent made only for the Light. He's healed her. He's absorbed every facet of her body and didn't manage to blind her by accident. There's not even a scar.

He could collapse and moan in joy. He's done it. He's not a lost cause. He's _healed_ her.

Her hazel eyes are large and electric, more than the nervous, bewildered smile she throws up at him. He looks back at her shoulder; a terrible thought sneaks through him that he wants to bend down and kiss her. She would not resist him…but he pushes it away.

"You did it. How did you _do that_?" she whispers in a near-giggle.

Ben isn't sure he can speak. His muscles have turned to eels. He has to sit back down.

"Mother of kriff, if only – oh, wow," Rey sputters, fully blowing out nervous laughter. Disapproving of how ridiculous she looks, Ben wants to throw something at her, but there's nothing useful nearby. "Ohh, if only – Luke saw that."

In that comment she thinks is a kind offer, Ben is grateful his hair shades part of his face. He thinks of a retort, fast. "Well. Imagine what my parents would have said." He waits for her to meet his eyes. "About time I had a girl in my bed."

He expects Rey to snort, or politely ignore the suggestion. But he mistakes her sensitivity. She is still now, guarded, with the intent to disappear under the mattress.

"Look, I – sorry, I'll stop." She sounds so careful of her shame, struggling a bit to sit up and make her escape.

There's no idea in his head how to react.What does she mean, she'll stop? Does he apologize? For what, exactly?

"I healed you," he says instead, pointedly.

Rey gets up, adjusting her shirt, looking down at him with a schooled but flushed face.

"Right. You healed me. Good. Now I won't get shot again," she promises decisively before leaving the room.

Sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

The _Falcon_ drops out of hyperspace with the sight of a once verdant planet run with dust brown. This formerly swampy planet, Ri'yohh, was once heavily colonized from excessive cash crops. Now that the land has run dry, its inhabitants are mostly left to fend for themselves in disorganized villages. Out here, there's no Republic to imitate a more structured system of government. Hence, slave ships can pass through this area with ease.

From the controls, Rey fights down the urge to feel if her face is still burning. Terric is reading a navigation chart. "No sign of the Order. There's all this land they could use."

"With all the non-human aliens? It probably would have been a target for Starkiller, if it was a tactical choice to begin with," Rey says almost to herself. When she's met with stone silence, she curses herself, both at the mention of Starkiller and at the tactless barb at non-humans.

"Sorry," she offers. "What – are you, anyway? If you don't mind me askin'."

Terric stares out at the changing sky. Rey blinks at the souring mood projecting from him as he gets up and just leaves the cockpit.

In another minute Niall comes in to replace him. "'E's just pissy."

Through the Force, Ben's voice echoes in her. _Watch him in particular._

 _Who_ , _Niall_? Rey feels irritation clawing inside; definitely ignoring how breathless the two of them were, him bent over her in his bed. Just because she's ridden Niall years ago –

 _No. Not him. The hybrid. Find out about him. Earn his trust. I don't have a chance._

Rey puts this away for now. He's lost family on Hosnia Prime, like he said in the bar. Not much to investigate from there, and Rey would rather leave him alone than pick at his emotional scars.

They land out of sight from a nearby village. Terric's hoverbike sits nearby a lean-looking speeder Rey had salvaged up and left inside a storage unit.

"All right, then. Rumley, stay here," Niall tells the surly Bothan. "Terric and I will do some investigating. We'll go first. Rey, you'll head in another direction."

Next to her, Rey feels Korla hesitate before speaking. "I'll come along with Rey, if that's all right."

Niall's face is guarded when he holds her jewel-green gaze. "All right. Won't be an hour, then."

Ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Both men go first, wandering into a run-down industrial ghetto while the women follow from another direction. Graffiti and strewn rubble are recognized from Lorra's last holo diary footage.

Korra dismounts from behind Rey, who hesitates before leaving her salvaged speeder in an undisclosed corner. A place like Ri'yohh is too similiar to Jakku and she anticipates never seeing the craft again lest some poor sod steals it.

Glancing over at the Tholothian (who's got big green-gold eyes and strong curves and perfect skin), Rey attempts conversation. "So how'd you end up with a guy like Niall? He's not trying to sell you like the Bothan, has he?" She asks this as a joke, but honestly won't be surprised if it's part true.

Shrugging, Korla replies, "My parents did that, years ago when I was a kid. Niall commandeered a ship I stole, but he saved my life."

This makes Rey grin against her will. "He's good at that, isn't he."

"Yeah, the little prick." The alien says this with undisguised fondness that Rey can see right through it.

Now it's Korra's turn to glean information. "How old are you?"

Although people seem to enjoy asking Rey this, it displaces her nonetheless. "Um. Twenty-one I think. Maybe twenty."

The estimation seems to satisfy Korra somehow. "So...Niall was your first, huh?"

The teasing she's endured from the seasoned men and women of the Resistance have made Rey tighten from just a fraction of it, even from a near-stranger like the attractive Tholothian. "Aww, damn it all, what do you want?" she scowls. "I don't have anything to be sorry for."

"No, you don't. He does," Korla quips.

"What's it to you? It was years ago and I'm not jumpin' into his bed now, am I?" Rey demands, distrustful of this woman's amusement.

"Hey." Korra reached out a golden arm. "I didn't mean that. Look, we're both women. You didn't seem thrilled to see him again. Just figured we could talk."

Rey uses the blinding sun as an excuse to blink furiously and look away. Girl talk. This Tholothian wants to have some girl talk.

"So, if you don't mind me asking...how old were you when you and he...you know?"

"Why is everyone obsessed with that?" Rey demands. "It's not Iike I was a flat-chested stick. I _knew_ what I was doing."

The softening of Korla's green-gold eyes made Rey wonder if she was a mother in a distant past. "Oh, honey, no, that's not what they mean. It's just...look, I've been there. In a situation...like that. I don't mean to make you feel bad, honestly."

Rey's mental shields are raised against this woman and her kind, wine-warm voice. "Alright."

Korla tilts her head suggestively. "So. Not that I've been interested, but...was he - good?"

It's not as if Rey's backed against a wall, but it feels like it. Heat runs up her neck and between her legs. Not because of Niall - he looks pretty good for forty-ish and filthy. He's not the one Rey's currently attracted to, though, and Ben could _hear_ this and...stare at her in heated disapproval to make her beg for forgiveness.

Ah, well. If you're destined for hell, you may as well enjoy the burn. "He wasn't bad. 'S not like I tried to find anything better. Not even when I got off-world. Jedi purity, and all that."

"Yeah, it sure sounded like Jedi purity in your friend's room."

Motherfuck - !

Rey made an unladylike guttural noise in the back of her throat. "Can we just find what we're looking for, please?"

Ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

In a third-world planet like this, there's no hope of Holonet reception. That article about his mother's accidental leak to the Resistance will have to wait. A long-dead, childish desire to bite his fingernails arises from this painful uselessness.

Ben stares at his hands instead. They don't look any different than what they had performed less than an hour ago. They are large, like his father's, with callused fingertips from years of accidental lightsaber burns, but he knows the power that courses through them.

All he can see, despite the pearl-bright sky from the cockpit, is the golden-fair skin from her shoulder. He's watched her mouth before, once grit into a frown in battle, now openly smiling at her at least once a day. It had curved into a…wanton gasp. Rey's body shook and tightened under them like…like –

 _No. Don't_ – his mind is desperate, unable to withhold the slackness of these pestering, lecherous thoughts. _Don't go there. Think of something else, please._

So when the image of Darth Vader's profile, of grainy holograms and a cavernous voice, comes rising from under the tide, Ben flexes his hands and imagines the console torn to shreds.

She's spoken to him.

Not Darth Vader. Anakin Skywalker. The Chosen One. The ancestor his own mother rejected.

If the Bothan wasn't sitting next to him attempting conversation, Ben would have considered attempted thought-speak with Rey right now. Either that or left the ship to speak to her in person.

"I'm glad you seem so interested in a conversation with me, but I'll be frank with you," the Bothan's sarcasm drips. "Since my…captivity is to be extended a little longer, perhaps I could try and be of some use to you and your friend? I'm not much of a pilot…or a mechanic," he adds. "But I'm a fast learner, and I'm much better company than Terric when it comes to learning from my mistakes."

For the past 24 hours, Ben has felt like a foreigner in his own home. The Bothan's more harmless than the hybrid, Terric, who's no different than a bratty human teenager…but Ben needs to regain something.

"You're enjoying this. Being on the run with these curs." His voice is a soft purr, reminiscent of his old mask modulator. "To you, this is all an adventure. Tell me, how exactly did you end up out in the Outer Rim?"

All the Bothan does is shake his head. "I do come from a race famously known for their spy work. I just happened to be from a family more interested in making money than living on the edge."

Ben lowers his eyelids in acknowledgment, a very noble-house-of-Alderaan gesture too princely to do in front of Rey.

''You're a fool if you feel safe with a man like that bounty hunter. Do you know what would happen if the First Order finds us?" Ben watches the Bothan's whiskers twitch by a breadth. "Their torture methods?"

The Bothan, Ben has surmised, is far smarter than the other degenerates take him for. He's remarkably calm when he replies, "I can at least tell them I captured you. You've got more to worry from the First Order than me."

At the furry alien's bluntness, Ben feels he can snort. They'd shoot him, because he is a Bothan. But he doesn't want to dispel the humor.

"You know, we've met once," the alien tells him quietly, making Ben harden in astonishment. "It was on Bothawui, twenty-two years ago. My uncle survived the war and he was training my cousin to be a diplomat. I was very young then, and definitely wasn't interested in standing around important people. Neither did you, I think."

Although suspicious, Ben remembers this in his childhood, another trip he was forced to attend with his mother. His father was a rare attendance that time, just when Ben's sensitivity to the Force demanded he meditate to calm his warring mind, and Han Solo struggled to help his son.

The smell of the old metal and sweat-through fabric hit his nose aggressively. He cannot even rest his betraying eyes on the controls. These are the tools his father showed him how to fly. This is his father's truest home, his grave. And Ben sits, stained with purgatory inside it.

 _You killed him._

 _I…I loved him._

The Bothan, thankfully, thinks with care on what to say next. "I'm glad at the way things turned out. For you, now. They may not believe, but…I do."

The kindness in the Bothan's voice dissolves the wall of distrust. Ben senses truth in him, this cousin of diplomacy. It's as if Ben's gained another ally.

Ben nods his head in silent acceptance. He doesn't feel so oppressed in here now.


	16. Chapter 16

The Call to the Light

Chapter 16

Terric's sullenness is evident in the way he trails a few feet behind Niall. Usually the lad is too eager to strut alongside him during shady business, trying to look like a tough guy.

Terric's Huttese is not too manageable, so he isn't being too useful. So far no one speaks Basic here.

No one is interested in talking about the gun-strapped pleasure barge that came through here a few weeks ago, either. The slavers have stamped their sense of loyalty into these poor villagers, for fear that they'll come back too soon. It's evident, though; most of them here are middle-aged and brittle. There's hardly any children, or women of childbearing age.

"All right, son," Niall begins, tugging gently at Terric's sleeve. "You've been awfully foul in silence with me since the Belt. Wanna talk to your boss like a man, or am I gonna have Korla sweeten it outta you like a schoolboy?"

At Terric's glare, Niall briefly wonders if he's ever head-butted anyone before. Those horns, shallow for a quarter-Zabrak, would leave dents in his skull. Still, the boy keeps his mouth shut.

"Look, we've got two damned Jedi in our company. If they start searchin' your noggin – "

The boy turns into a lizard, all harsh lines and slit eyes. "How can you be so…okay with that man alongside us? That monster?"

"What, the dark knight?" Niall asks.

"He's a killer, he's a _war criminal_ ," Niall points out with ferocity. "Do you have any idea – "

"I have many ideas, lad, now shut your whining. I saw an opportunity, else you woulda been chained in a storage room eatin' scraps in the _Shadowbreaker_." Sensing something else is at play, Niall asks, "What, he didn't torture any Resistance friends of yours, did he?"

Terric's eyes weaken their resolve. "He killed my sister. He cut her down like an animal. I was just a kid."

Ahh, fuck. Niall shifts uncomfortably. It's not like he knew that. He doesn't follow First Order stuff.

"I'm sorry, lad. I didn't know. You can't expect me to have some kind of control over that." He leans in to make sure Terric's meeting his eyes. "But you're not exactly dead yet."

The vulnerability vanishes. Niall thinks Terric might cry. "You're fucking – you're insane if you think you're safe on that ship with him."

"Trust me on this one, lad."

"Trust you? I've hated that man my whole life, and he offered me kriffing breakfast this morning! How can you expect me to – "

"See, that's the thing here. I expect nothin' from you. You've been a fool ever since you begged me to take you on. Monsters are bred out in the wild like this. I'm getting my kid, and if that involves _sleepin'_ with him, I'll do it. If it involves trading you to get her back…you'd best be ready for that."

Niall likes the foolish youth written in the young man, but the look of betrayal makes his hands itch for an oncoming slap. "You do anything to ruin my chances of finding my daughter, I'll cut you myself."

He's promising these dark things to protect the boy, give him a harder skin. He's from the Inner Rim, Niall knows it – even though he's coughed up some bantha shit story about working as a techie all his life. If he wants to play adventurer like Rumley, Niall doesn't care. He's no hero.

Just as Niall turns around to the threadbare market, he spots a man – a young man, right between Terric's age and his own. He looks healthier than the others in this planet, which is stark enough to be suspicious. And he's staring right at Niall and Terric.

Ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Not far from them, Rey finally senses it. She won't probe people's minds, or try a Jedi Mind Trick, so instead she's been picking up on the villagers' thoughts and emotions, a little subdued compared to most bustling places, but the melancholy and the seasoned loss weigh her down like stones.

Korla's been hovering, concerned at Rey's wan expression. "What is it?"

"I think I found someone who'll talk to us."

Ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

The man at first lingers behind the sandstone wall like a lost animal, shifting from foot to foot. He does not run when Niall and Terric approach him.

"Die wanna wanga," Niall says in Huttese. " _We are travelers. No harm._ Pateesa." He points to him and Terric at the word "friend."

The man glances nervously between them, then concedes. " _You not slavers_."

Niall dives in as best he can in broken Huttese. " _I a father. Girl-child my. Gone. Not here. To look. She here month, or, three…week? Boat, far."_

The man is heavily tanned with black hair and a beard. He could pass for a more handsome, younger version of Niall with brown eyes. He becomes a little excited at Niall's information.

" _Ah! Me, a woman_." Niall picks words in between his hurried speech. " _Boy, her. They – gone – ship – same –_ "

Behind him Rey and Korla approach them, carefully to not scare the villager.

"H'chu apenkee," Rey says brightly. " _I am Rey. We are looking for a woman, an alien. Mirialan. Green skin, dark purple marks on her skin. Dark eyes and long dark hair. Foreign and foolish_."

The man relaxes at Rey's fluent Huttese. " _I told your friends. Many children and young women were taken. My – my wife and son, them, too_." His eyes are desperate. " _They killed so many of us…_ "

"Ask how many people they took, what they look like," Niall suggests.

Rey repeats these questions. The man replies, " _Humans, Zabraks, Barabels. A dozen all came. They have taken many from us before…this time, they only wanted her. My wife, and my boy_." He turned to Niall. " _They took a girl, too. I think the one you speak of_."

All this way for just three victims to sell? This place has already picked clean of "sellable" slaves. Something doesn't add up.

" _You saw them?_ " she asks. " _The slavers? Was there one who looked in charge?_ "

There's a tap on her shoulder. "Hey."

Not too far away, several bony fingers are pointed in their direction. Someone runs in the other direction, presumably to report that outsiders have come around snooping.

The villager senses the distraction and drops to his knees. " _Please! Please take me with you. To find our lost ones. I cannot come back with my family here_."

Torn, Rey looks up at Niall with pleading eyes.

"You're the captain, girl," he tells her.

If they have uninterrupted time in hyperspace, Rey can peer into the man's mind and have a better look at the slavers who took Lorra. The man on his knees clasping Rey's hands, and his family, are honestly no different than her on Jakku. It makes sense…but will Ben mind?

This actually becomes more of an incentive to bring the man to his feet. " _We have a ship. We must leave now_."

Ssssssssssssssssssss

All five manage to return to the Falcon on their intact land vehicles. When they ascend the ramp, Ben waits for them, arms crossed over his chest and imperious.

"Are we running a hotel as well as a taxi?" Rumley asks.

Rey is surprised to sense a trace of embarrassment from Niall, but he doesn't show it. "This man's seen Lorra. There were others loyal to those slavers, so we've gotta blow outta here."

Looking at the new man, Chiroh, and his out-of-place posture, Rey turns to Ben. "Can you take us out of here? I have to talk to him."

Without a word Ben casts a sidelong glance at Chiroh before disappearing. The engines whir and the landing gear click back into place.

" _It's all right. We're going into space now_." Rey guides Chiroh into a seat. " _Tell me. You saw the slavers. They took your wife, and son. Did they say why_?"

" _They…she was taken before. She…she is not my wife. And he is not my son. Jirah and I were playmates. They took her six years ago. When she came back, Joah was at her breast. She…she is beautiful, the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, but there is something else about her that the slavers try to possess."_

There is something familiar about what Chiroh may be suggesting, but Rey is patient. " _Is she…a witch_?"

The word makes Chiroh hesitate. " _She is different. She is kind_ ," he argues.

Usually Outer Rim folk are overtly suspicious of people who could display Force-related abilities. It's how the Church of the Force rose into prominence, though that is one of the rarer audiences that do not respond with revulsion or violence. She senses, though, that this man loves the woman who was captured with Lorra. He even called her his wife.

Rey licks her lips. " _Chiroh. I am a witch too. Don't fear me, I am good. My friend has lost his daughter. I seek only to find her. You have seen their captors. May I see with you? Inside you head? Can you show me?_ "

She's prepared for how Chiroh jerks away in fear.

" _Chiroh, I need to see. I will not hurt you. Please_." She tries another tactic. " _I am a Jedi_."

Chiroh stills, disbelieving. " _Jedi?"_

" _I can look through your memory. It makes a picture. I can see with you. Can you remember it, so I can see, now?"_

Poor Chiroh looks like he's been asked to have a blaster pointed to his head. Surprisingly he relents, distrust buzzing only by a fraction.

Rey comes in, gentle like butter or sweets against the tongue. She floods around the scene as blurs become sharper.

 _A tanned Zabrak male with black markings surveys the damage as his mercenaries flood the scene. A woman and child are screaming, and a man's voice – it's coming from Chiroh – throws curses._

 _The woman is part human. Hybrids like Terric frequently are born out in the Outer Rim, not because of cross-species acceptance, but because of lack of preference within the social scale. She has gimlet-green eyes and soft brown hair, and a strange combination of pale flesh- and –sea green skin. She has a sweet face and wears tattoo markings above her eyebrows._

 _The boy, Joah, is all human. He has black hair and hazel eyes, almost molten gold like Rey's._

 _Rey concentrated more on the Zabrak and his cronies, and the pleasure barge where a scary-looking shirtless Barabel, with scars like claw marks down his back, drags another woman – Lorra – by her hair._

" _Rastro. This one. She is a changeling. I saw it myself_."

 _Rastro. Rey knows that name. The Zabrak gives them a nod before turning back to Chiroh's woman._

" _Jirah. You will forget all this." He opens his mouth to say something else –_

The _Falcon_ jerks into a slant, knocking Rey and everyone else to the floor.

Refocusing, Rey searches outward. "We're hit!"

"Why aren't we in hyperspace?" Terric shouts.

 _Because we're low on fuel and we've been followed_! Ben's voice echoes, presumably in everyone's, since yelling from the cockpit would make him sound unhinged.

Niall's already pulling himself up, heading to the cockpit. Chiroh clings to Rey as she thinks to Ben, _Where did they hit us!?_

 _The – fuel driver. Overhead is breached, the room's sealed off._ Rey can sense Ben's boiling impatience in his tone and in the sudden jerk he piloted, slamming everyone against something. _Niall says there's a nearby planet we can hide._

 _How long?_ Rey asks as she thrown another reassured nod at Chiroh.

 _As soon as we destroy whoever's chasing us._

"Shit," Rey hisses. Ben's had enough, and of course all he wants is to attack something. Rey has reservations, and quickly tells him to wait while she burrows into her mind to throw some focus into the people who are on that enemy ship.

She can sense many souls, but less than half of them feel as dark as storm clouds, like old burns that do not want to be touched. Many others are weak, much weaker than the others, like the hollow, pitiful wind of Jakku, too warm to rouse any energy.

Rey pulls away just in time.

 _There are slaves on that ship!_

" _Ben,"_ she pleads, aloud by accident in a near-whine. _Please_.

The _Falcon_ is maneuvering in impossibly level angles, all for the sake of the very fragile people inside (although Korla and Rumley don't seem to notice, the noobs). Despite the expert piloting, Rey feels the warring argument inside of Ben.

 _There are ten of them. Ten lives for twenty,_ he tells her. _What do you plan to do with the slavers?_

He is taunting her. He knows her, how stubbornly good she wants to be, to make up for the shit life she led on Jakku where morals were absent. He expects her to reason erasing their memories of those men, those slavers who have probably raped and killed, and will rape and kill again because they are _still alive_.

He expects to trap Rey with reason.

 _We'll give them what they deserve,_ she tells him with cool detachment, startling Ben in their connection.

Sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

"Why have we stopped?" Niall demands. Rigidly at the controls, the frozen look on Ben's face leaves the petty criminal thinking he's in some sort of trance.

The _Falcon_ is still, only for a few seconds before there's an odd lurching sound, as if something is pulling the damn thing.

"They've locked us in a tractor beam."

Blue eyes brighten in concern. "Well, get us out of it, will ya?!"

"No." Ben tilts his head vaguely in his direction. "That's the intent. We'll attack from the inside."

The way he reaches for the metal hilt strapped to his side, the lightsaber he took from him back on the Belt, makes Niall stay very much out of his way.

Sssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Rey's halfway through helping the others into the stowaway compartment in the floor. When she sees Ben, followed by an alert Niall, the taller man is carrying the hilt of his lightsaber.

Rey reaches for hers.

"No. Stay here and guard the ship." Ben's stony face betrays a sliver of concern. "I'll take care of this."

Her hand lingers on her hilt. There's something heavy in the way he doesn't directly look at her.

"I don't understand – "

There's voices coming from outside.

"Girl. Sit this one out, all right?" Niall tells her, blue eyes soft.

Reluctantly, Rey steps away as the two men – one from her past, one whose future she wants to protect – stride to the landing ramp.


	17. Chapter 17

The Call to the Light

Chapter 17

There are only two slavers waiting out in the cargo bay where the _Falcon_ is docked. Behind him, Niall doesn't even have time to fire – Ben's been so ready for combat that he Force-throws both men back against the walls.

He does not kill them. Not yet. He'll search their heads for information, for this changeling girl they're all looking for. But for now…

The darkness has never left him. It will never be expelled from his person, ever, contrary to what his betters want to believe. Not that he is in any temptation to use it, except that now his entire body has been denied action, and control. He seeks to reclaim it again.

 _She doesn't have to be here_ , Ben reasons as he signals that Niall head upstairs. Through the dark corridor, Ben activates his lightsaber, adjusting to the azure glow. It's not fair to Rey, to strive for goodness to the point of sainthood when violence is all that clings to her.

Another indistinguishable crony, armed to the teeth but knocked down in a blink. He's made fun of it long enough, how kind Rey is to everyone. How, during the first time he searched her mind for the BB unit droid, there was an unnatural degree of _fondness_ for the orange and white _thing_. He's not sure why he wants to risk his place in the Light, killing – especially since he just healed through the Force for the first time in a decade. But he reasons that he at least knows his way around the Dark. She doesn't deserve to be swallowed back in it, even if it means cutting down a few worthless traffickers like these.

Two more beasts, one of them carrying a vibro-blade that crackles. No; he can practically smell the hatred and sick thoughts permeating the halls, the whimpers of sentients so close to animal treatment. He will take care of this himself. She doesn't have to see this, as he tries -

There's a whimper. Several, coming from behind the wall. There's a complicated-looking lock that spans half of the door. Too much time.

Ben puts his hand on the metal, sending a small shock of air through the other side to startle whoever's there to stand back.

He takes his lightsaber and sticks it right through, melting the metal into buttery ore.

Screams emerge from the other side. He assumes he will look like a new terror to them, a black-haired, towering ghost with a glowing sword to cut them down. Their fear stinks. It reminds him of his days as Kylo Ren. That's why he didn't want to swoop in as some vigilante as Rey had wished before.

One he manages a large opening, he peers through. There are shapes of sallow-looking limbs, mostly half-naked, and cowering forms; women with shorn heads, some with collars, shackles, bruises, streaks of dirt, smelling like urine, sweat and blood. He can't see any men older than adolescents.

Shielded behind are smaller forms. Younglings. Human children that barely reach his own waist, with glowing eyes in small, gaunt faces.

Anakin Skywalker. They are all no different than Anakin Skywalker, his own grandfather.

The connection shocks him so much that he drops his lightsaber. Unsteadiness hits him like a sudden illness. He has to lean against the wall to remain upright.

When he looks back, he becomes – hurt? It's more than just disappointed – that no one's walked through the opening to freedom. He doesn't know how long they've been kept in this windowless chamber, but he makes a horrid guess that the dark makes them more disoriented in the light. They actually cling to the walls as far away from the doorway, and him.

Why won't they leave? Why do they stay in that room?

The thought _who would do something like this_ is quickly, chidingly, replaced with _I would. I would do that._

Ssssssssssssssssssssssss

Terric peeks out from under the compartment. "What's going on?"

"Shush," Rey answers. Her senses are honed in on the other beings outside, the ones who burn in aggression to attack. One by one they are blurred out, but not dead. She assumed Ben was going to do as she suggested, but maybe he plans to question them.

Maybe he plans to teach Rey another cringe-worthy lesson about the Dark, and will have her kill them.

She tries not to think of the sudden steel-cool determination from Ben, the look of penance that seemed to hang on him. Something is happening, and Ben doesn't want her to see it.

She's waited long enough. She opens up the compartment door with a terse "come out and guard the ship" before running out the landing ramp and into the new ship's hanger bay.

A pained shadow makes her look up. Ben is there, looking more pale than usual. "I…I need you," he says.

Wordlessly Rey follows his swift form, noticing he does not hold his lightsaber out.

He slows to the point where his footfall becomes quieter. They must be the slaves. Their trembling can be felt by Rey and Ben from down the hall.

When they approach, Ben's hand reaches out to her wrist. "They won't come out. I've tried to show them, but…"

Rey takes a moment in the quiet to understand the unsettlement in Ben's voice. She pockets it away for later. Right now she leans in and crouches to her knees.

"Die wanna wanga," she says in the gentlest Huttese tone ever. " _My name is Rey. This is Ben. We are Jedi. We will not harm you."_

The poor souls are nothing new to her, nor are they to Ben (she assumes…he's tortured and murdered, he must have seen people looking like them).

Someone finally speaks out. " _They've hurt us. Starved us_."

" _They will not hurt you again. We have them. You are safe now_ ," Rey tries to convince them. If only they would come out of that vile, dank room. They must be filthy.

" _There must be food here. Are you hungry? Help me find some_."

That seems to signal them to come out. Ben's dissatisfaction with himself to ask this particular question is akin to a heavy stone dropping into water. Reluctantly, like tired little birds, the poor women come out, followed by clinging younglings who murmur their concern.

Rey gives Ben a quick nod before leading the slaves down the hall, gently cooing to them in the foreign language like they are her mourning neighbors.

The smell is vile and horrible. Ben feels he cannot breathe, and yet when he hears a slight puff of breathing still in the chamber, he does not hesitate.

Inside the floor is wet with urine and bile. He sees a tangle of what he thinks are bones, but he gasps upon realizing that they are limbs. Two small bodies, one a mostly-human hybrid and the other a Twi'lek female, lean on each other, their frailty as thin as cotton. There are several others that are dead, wasting.

Why were these two left behind? He doesn't speak Huttese. Where are their mothers?

The hybrid croaks, shifts to lift a rail-thin arm. It sickens him how the bones jut out. His starvation is so…it's reached a plane of near-sleepy pain, a ghostlike chokehold that Ben cannot help but think, did Rey…?

"Cho-dta," the boy says.

Ben cannot help it. "I don't understand."

Jedi are able to understand the general objective of beings from different languages, if one was to pay attention. Though shaken, Ben doesn't want to call Rey over. He leans in and…reaches out his hand. When he lays it on the poor youngling's forehead, it is a touch, burning and delicate, that he will not forget.

 _Help me._

It takes a minute to understand, searching desperately into that boy's eyes, what he wants. There is a knowledge, gleaming even in the shadow of semi-consciousness, that Ben is a powerful man, a witch even. And the boy knows this.

He wants to die. The boy is asking Ben to help him die.

The realization makes Ben snap awkwardly to his feet. Wobbling, distrustful of the power in his own hands, he backs away, stumbling out of the cut-out room.

Sssssssssssssssssssssssssss

It's difficult to look like you know what you're doing, when two dozen women and younglings follow you and you can't find a proper medbay.

Rey's found the main lounge area, and it stinks with burnt spice and alcohol. She has to convince them for a good three minutes that the masters are gone and no one will beat them, just to look for the damn 'freshers, clothes, and damned food.

She keeps the message thin enough for the Force-sensitive changeling to sense her: _Korla, Terric, Rumley, get up here now and look for food in this damn ship, s_ he tells the others. _Niall, get us out of here; anywhere we can bring these people._

 _Rey. Tell Korla she can stay inside if she wants. Too many people…she's gentle, you know?_

Though Korla's appeared as anything _but_ gentle since Rey's met her, she passes along the message. She hears the ship return to hyperspace just as she reaches out to Ben.

His mind, his presence in the Force, is red-hot with a single drive.

 _What are you doing?_

Ben takes a suspiciously long time to answer. _I'm questioning the ones who chased us._

Ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

There's no flight plan in the computer, so the surviving crew are hiding the name if their destination. Niall's killed two and knocked out one. The remaining five are brought to one of the cargo holds, a claustrophobic place with its low ceiling and spare light.

Two Rodians and four humans lie in a pile. Niall and Rey watch, silent and anxious, behind Ben as his eyes burn his next victims. He is alight with purpose, intimidation visible in his posture like his old robes. "Which one of you is in charge?"

Swallowing, Rey translates.

The Rodian responds in slurred Huttese. " _Wait until Rastro finds you, you slimeball_."

"Rastro…" there's a note of recognition in Ben's voice.

Rey starts. "You know him?"

"Who's Rastro?" Niall asks.

"He's a Zabrak slave-trader who's hunted down Force-sensitives, like possible Jedi younglings," Rey explains, eyes trained on Ben's back. "Luke told me about him. Chiroh saw him take his family, and Lorra."

"But she's not a Force-sensitive," Niall reasons.

"No, but she sounds special. For a glorified merchant," Ben murmurs dangerously. If Rey was facing him, she could imagine his eyes were gleaming like faraway planets in space.

"Where is Rastro?" He's toying with them. Rey isn't sure if she should say something. She doesn't.

His voice is calm as the ocean, almost rhythmic, as he angles his fingers over the Rodian's skull. He then backs away, holding out his hand, then the other, as if he is a conductor.

"Show me…everything you know. Where you go. Where you stay. Whom you answer to."

Rey senses the strings he pulls (yanks, really) through the Force at each trader's head, slivers of memory. There's a brush of attention to her, asking her to look through with him.

 _She sees – hears, smells – chaotic, smoke-heavy moments in between loud, pulsing music, spice, blinding seconds of violence and jeering, blood, screams, tender flesh gripped by angry hands, and a bitter, metallic aftertaste._

 _There's a tattoo, shimmering in an ultraviolet light of a six-winged, feminine-shaped sentient. It disappears on someone's curvy skin._

"I've seen that tattoo before," says Ben. "Korla has it."

Rey finds herself prickled with alarm. "What? Where?"

Ignoring her, Ben tightens his grip on all six slavers. They shudder from the invisible grip.

"Lautori," one human croaks out, then in Basic, "Lautori, the Asylum."

Tightening his concentration on the human, Ben leans in. "There's more."

"A-ask." The man's eyes bulge. "-a-and you shall…receive."

When he slumps to the floor, Ben moves his punishing glare onto the closest trader. "Now. Tell me where you planned to sell your precious cargo."

Rey has to repeat the question to the half-shaken Rodian before they get a reply: Gen'toa. Niall's left by now to plot a course for some "safe territory," wherever he decides that is.

It's just Ben and Rey now, and the hopeless, thin pulls of air between the five conscious traders.

"You're the captain of the ship, aren't you," Ben says to her, a grim taunt meant to force her into a corner. Instead she thinks he is asking her to make a decision…because _he_ cannot.

Despite the rather simple choice in dealing with these prisoners, Rey pales. They're…she's pretty sure they're all rapists, and killers. She knows some of the rescued slaves are close to death. These five men – of all the kinds of people she, Finn, even Poe and the Starfighter pilots of the Resistance, have murdered either outright or in the blindness of war, they deserve a punishment worse than death.

And yet Rey recoils at the idea of Ben looking to _her_ for permission.

She knows he can do it. She's seen him do it before, a simple cutting gesture of his hand and it severs the link between body and soul. In her presence it's a mere example of his power, though he's never used it on her. He's only engaged her with the saber, some sort of honorable demand.

"You're – " she swallows a thick wall of saliva. "That's the Dark. It's not right."

"Then what _is_ right?" he implores, shoulders tight with a choice he can easily make. Something within him thrums.

Rey reaches for her lightsaber and steps up to him. He's already taken several lives back on the Belt, rescuing Rumley and Korla. She's about to open her mouth when Terric barges in.

"They found a woman. She was bound up, I think one of these bastards killed her." He is alight with shock and bubbling vexation. By mistake Rey finds herself stepping in front of Ben, and the silenced slave traders.

Terric's violet-hazel eyes absorb everything. "Wh-what are you guys waiting for?"

Ben prickles at the assumption. "Taking a life isn't exactly the Jedi way," Rey tries to explain.

Terric leans back in the doorjamb, despondent. "You've…got to be kidding me. What, it's okay to kill literally billions of innocent people – kids – but you've got a half-dozen rapists and you've got _morals_ , all of a sudden?"

Rey doesn't know at what point she put her hand on Ben's arm, but in an instant it's yanked away. The other Jedi cannot take it anymore; his lightsaber flies in a few arcs, angry and rushed. The bastards are all in pieces on the floor, not a single scream among them.

The violence was so quick that Rey has flown back, an extended arm thrown to protect Terric, though she plans to punch him in the face in another minute.

Great. Two men simmer in their anger; Terric's towards Ben, and Ben towards himself.

"You…" Rey starts, an unexpected frown at Terric's direction. "Stop being a prick, and get out."

Apparently pleased with himself, the part-Zabrak holds up his hands in mock-surrender, striding away.

When she looks back, Ben still keeps his lightsaber drawn, warding away more complicated thoughts.

"He's right. He – " Ben shakes his head and clenches his teeth in frustration. "I never understood that as part of the Jedi Code."

Rey forces herself to look down at the mess. Self-defense would have allowed the murder of these sentients, but not in the obvious execution-style fashion.

"Neither did I," she confesses. She's no saint, and she's accepted this. "Ben, look at me," she implores, reaching out to him again, to anchor his heated emotions. "There are twenty very scared women and children right now. Let's take care of them."

"I frighten them." He speaks this to avoid thinking it, and having her pick it up like a coward. Funny how, as he speaks this, he sounds far more informative than cowardly.

Under his shirt and jacket, Ben's arm is warm, feverish. She wants to try something. They're standing close enough. Even with the stench of cauterized body parts strewn at their feet, there is a sudden intent to get through to him, to make him see…he is needed. Even if she may be the only one to openly express it.

She takes one step closer, leans her face into his so that her forehead rests against the bridge of his nose. He's quite tall. If they ever managed to kiss, ever…either he'd always have to bend down a little, or she'd have to stand on her tiptoes. Not fair.

He doesn't retreat from her, an improvement from the time she accidentally shared the dream of her kissing him in the forest, and when he had darted away from her as if burnt. But his attention sparks from her hand on his arm, her breath against his face, the slight brush of their clothes, on their chests.

She likes this; the intimacy of such a small space between them. She knows this face so well, more than her friends'. She closes her eyes. "You don't frighten me," she tells him in a firm whisper.

She calls out to him through the Force, seeking to ease him. He is not lost just by ending the lives of evil creatures. Just as she moves back, he leans in, unbalanced by the way he has fallen unconscionably into her orbit. But Rey is already stepping away, encouraging him to join her upstairs.


	18. Chapter 18

The Call to the Light

Chapter 18

Niall and Terric have checked the other rooms for…similar surprises to the woman found inside the men's bunk. Neither Ben nor Rey ask where her body's been placed.

Ben swallows. The other dead, left behind in the chamber…

Remembering the two boys suddenly, he turns swiftly around. They all look the same, all dirty, half-naked limbs.

Rey's already pulled away from him. "What are you giving them?" she demands from Rumley, who's been passing around bowls and cups of food to the slaves.

The Bothan looks up from the small fence of children who have enough energy to cling to him. "They must be hungry."

"Wait, let me – " Rey switches to Huttese. Ben finds himself tuning into how gracefully she rolls through the otherwise harsh language. "The bastards have been starving them for almost three days. If they eat too much too quickly, they'll throw it all up. Let them have water first. Say 'ju-bao'no.'"

"Ju-bao'no," Rumley repeats, turning to the children around him with a stern glare. He manages to sit them down.

Ignoring the way Terric keeps his back at him (the little bastard, if only he knew how much a lightsaber can _hurt_ ), Ben turns his focus down the hall to the chamber.

Niall emerges, followed by the new human from Ri'yohh, both carrying the missing boys over their shoulders. In three steps Ben hurries over and reaches for the weaker one.

 _I can do this_ , he decides. Luke would caution him against having so much hope right now. After doing what should have been impossible, if not a complete backfire – renewing Rey's wounded shoulder with brand-new skin, bone and muscle – he cannot deny what he has just learned hours ago.

He will not serve death anymore. He must breathe life.

There's a cup of water hanging from Niall's hand. Ben takes it with a careless nod and garners the boy's attention. Drooping eyelids give nothing but thin slits.

What does he say? "Rey. How do you say 'wake up'?"

Behind him, Rey turns from calming a woman. He does not see how her expression freezes into something awed. "Dee-shestowh."

Ben whispers these words. He draws out the Force and imagines it being poured into his hands, cradling the boy's weak neck, helping him to sip once he stirs.

He feels sick. He's not sure why. The smell is almost a secondary sensation, unimportant. The boy's heartbeat is all he can hear.

Terric rises to his feet, torn between staring and tearing the child away.

 _Don't move_ , Rey tells Terric. _Let him do this._

Force-healing does require an exchange of strength somehow, but the effects are often not immediate. He's done this only once before, and he _knows_ Rey more intimately than some stranger.

Ben looms over the kid with gentle care, soothing him with automatic "it's all right, it's all right." It's enough to bring Rey out of her reverie and approach the other weak boy, the Twi'lek, and start to heal him.

When the boy's color returns, he takes some more water and sags back against the floor. Reluctant to leave him, he turns to Rey, who is talking to the Twi'lek in Huttese.

Exhaustion finally emerges, causing Ben to sit back down and take a deep breath. He looks around, at the twenty people huddled under sheets and blankets. Korla is fluent in Huttese, too, and speaks to many of the ghost-eyed women with open tenderness.

He turns to Niall, who watches the Tholothian with a guarded, almost bland, expression. The stranger from Ri'yohh is handing food to some boys.

"Why is he here?"

Strangely, the man turns to Ben as if he understands Basic.

Rey looks up from the passed-out boy. "His name's Chiroh. He saw Lorra being taken away, by Rastro. Along with his…a woman and a boy he cares for."

Ben picks up the familiarity in the way she says that last name. He changes course. "You and I apparently share more connections than ever." He practically feels the hum of warmth (embarrassment?) from Rey at his tone. "What were you and my uncle up to? Besides planning to kill me. And then rescue me of course," he finishes quickly; she drills a very displeased look in his direction.

After a huff Rey explains. "We…well." It's apparently not easy to begin. She sighs and stares at something. "Luke…told me he was trying to find Rastro. After…" the way she hesitates is to spare Ben. " _After_." The Second Purge. "But he kept getting bad leads. When he finally found him, he…wasn't in great fighting shape to defeat him. He was trying to – "

"I understand," Ben clips out, sobering. "And since you started training with him?"

Rey nodded. "Someone at the Resistance had a lead. One day he disappeared for about a week. He didn't want to get involved with the Resistance. Then he had me follow him, and…well, this Rastro is crafty. He knows all the Force-dampener technology. How do _you_ know him?"

Ben's abysmally large ears are on fire knowing that several people are easily listening in on their conversation. "Snoke had me look for him, over ten years ago. To eliminate all other Jedi threats." Blackness rises in Ben's chest, a sharp contrast to the soft breaths of the sleeping boy next to him. He focuses on that just to keep talking. "I decided to let him live. To cooperate with us. At the time." He swallows. "That relationship dissolved over time. I haven't dealt with him in years."

The last part is meant to sound like a relief, but it falls flat.

Always the one to depend on for a reaction, Rey rubs her face with her hands, exhaling heavily. "Kriff. I need a drink."

"There's wine in one of the cargo holds," Terric points out form across the room.

"Get me one," Rey tells him from under her hands. "Fuck. All right." She shakes her head and turns to Niall. "So we saw something – hey!" turning back to Ben with accusation, she says, "What did you mean about Korla's tattoo?"

The question isn't exactly shrill, but in the melancholy space, Korla's frozen expression seems to affect the very temperature of the room.

"You were asleep on the _Falcon_. Everyone was using the 'fresher," Ben explains coolly.

The glare Rey gives him is an unsatisfied one, but all eyes are on Korla.

The Tholothian holds her head high, though the Jedi pick up her shaky pulse. "I'm sorry, what's going on?"

"What tattoo?" Niall asks in a squeak.

"The traders. I searched their minds and saw their hideout, where Rastro frequents. The Asylum, on Lautori." Ben tilts his head by a fraction. "Those who worked there, I'm assuming, had tattoos of a Diathim. Ultraviolet, but black under visible light."

Rey's eyes are positively boring holes into his profile, in some wild desire to see how he saw this tattoo. Especially because Korla's wearing a skirt and boots and a cleavage-y shirt, and there isn't a tattoo _anywhere_.

Korla looks like she's been accused of something awful. "Not that it's any of your business, but there's plenty of shady people besides some Zabrak with a fetish for Jedi."

"Love. If he's got Lorra, we need to know how to get there. What kind of security they stash." Niall speaks gently, reminding Rey of how Korla spoke a little fondly of him by accident.

Her hand placed on a jutting hip, a defensive position for bold women, Korla considers this. "Yeah, I worked there once. A long time ago. Things don't usually remain the same within a month. It's a club, but it's rife with illegal shit. Drugs, prostitution, fighting – it's disgusting. Literally a pit you can get lost in. Tourists walk in there and end up walking out…years later after they bought their freedom. Why they decided to mark their staff with a damned angel is beyond me."

"So we head there with a plan," Rumley suggests, tailoring his usually eager tone with caution.

"What about these people?" Terric cuts in. "We have to take them somewhere safe. Wherever that is."

Ben is unfamiliar with the terrain of the Outer Rim. This side has hardly been touched by the First Order.

Niall slicks his hair back, a nervous tick. "I think we're close to a place. It's called Welcha. It's orbited by a leaking sun; it trails sun rays right behind it that can incinerate any nearby ships. Unless you know how to avoid 'em."

No one looks very convinced, but they are on a new ship in which the crew had to be murdered, and twenty malnourished, assaulted and battered slaves were just freed.

Tired, emotionally but not physically, Ben turns to Rey. She sighs, feeling equally spent. "Are we headed there right now?" she asks Niall.

"Couple hours. We've got great hosts, the Furridans. They're a polyamorous family who own a Roanbush plantation and a factory. They've got plenty of room for some…new help. _Paid_ help!" he throws out at Rey's stricken reaction.

"Kriff, Niall, for fuck's sake!" Korla cries out.

"What? Where the hell else are they gonna go? At least they'll have credit accounts, as far as I know."

The joking around is Ben's cue to…not leave, not yet. He decides to hear what Rey will do.

She looks around the lounge. "All right. Well…is there a 'fresher? Did you guys see one?"

"Down there, there's about three of them, separate stalls. Bit of a luxury."

Fascinated by Rey's expert caring instincts, Ben watches her sort through the weaker ones on the floor. In Huttese she gently speaks to the women who look like they need help to stand.

"I'm going to…help them get cleaned up," she says this with a little embarrassment, as if it is entirely inappropriate. The beat of silence is enough to tell Ben that the others think she is a saint.

And they're not wrong.

"Can I help?" Terric asks in a cautious voice. He doesn't seem surprised when Korla shakes her head, adding that being naked and bathing in front of a man, even one "as nice" as Terric, would be helpful. The slaves have been rescued, given water, clothing and a clean, wider space to rest. In a few hours they will most likely pass out, disbelieving they have been saved at all.

The boy he had healed into a stable condition stirs. Ben looks down. He wants…to stay with him. To see him wake up, to prove to him that all is not over yet.

But he would rather not sit here looking useless.

He decides to get out of everyone's way and return to the _Falcon_. Disappearing – it's what he's good at. The hull needs repairs, and this new ship is large enough to explore for supplies.

Sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Two hours later, arms numb from helping scrub tired, naked bodies and laying them down to rest, Rey finds Ben on top of the _Falcon_ , repairing the hull. It's a little odd, seeing him with some welding tool instead of gracefully hacking in her direction with his lightsaber.

She Force-lifts herself up onto the roof, once he puts away the welder to meet her. The quiet between them is…much more peaceful than before, in spare pockets of private time that have been laced with something that threatens to divide them. Rey is determined to keep the conversation light. She just wants some private time alone, with the only other Jedi.

Things used to be so easy when it was just the two of them.

He watches her sit down next to him. "How are they?" he asks gently.

Encouraged, Rey shrugs. "A lot. Naked bodies. A bit much, you know." And it was. They all looked and felt so pained that their minds were almost drugged with it. Rey had to reaffirm her mental shields, but it was hopeless when these poor wretches reminded her of Jakku life. She had once been that skinny before, felt really ready to die.

She doesn't realize she's ready to cry until the sudden burn in her nose and throat signify it's too late.

Ben almost stiffens. "Are you all right?" The look he sends her is of genuine concern.

Rey pivots a little to lay down with a crooked arm over her head to avoid it. "Yeah, it's just…a lot."

She can feel Ben's attention to her. It takes courage for him to ask, "Did it remind you of Jakku?"

Finding herself nodding, Rey lets the overhead lights blind her vision. It's as if she's lying on the beach, only she's trying to _look_ relaxed. This isn't the first time she's willingly been vulnerable in front of him. Perhaps it's an attempt to prove something, that they are still entwined together, and can…share stuff. Like the feel of his smooth, clammy forehead against her own.

"So," she starts. There's only one way to change the topic. "Terric's an arsehole."

Ben snorts, offering a toothless grin. "And I thought he would be the least concerning."

"Ah." Rey's eyebrows lift at the admission. He's still worried about Niall, which is absurd at this point. The man hasn't so much as leered at her. "That's…unexpected. Well, not sure if you noticed, but I think Niall and Korla have an undisclosed _thing_ for each other."

"Really," Ben says, mildly amused at her conspiratorial tone.

"Yeah. Any day now, they'll be…shacking up like newlyweds."

"She scares me," Ben offers, making Rey clap out her laughter, like a bell.

"Haha! She is…really good looking. And strong. No wonder you found some tattoo randomly on her body, it's stunning."

Rey really has no idea why she said that. It just came out. She wished she forgot that Ben saw something on someone else's body. That wasn't hers.

It would have been a high expectation for him to protest uncomfortably and babble some excuse, or even shake his head and smoothly placate her, tell her he's not interested.

Instead, because he is Ben Solo and the most complicated man in the galaxy, he changes the topic. "Tell me about…my grandfather."

The name of the Force-ghost makes her mouth go dry. Of course he would want to know. She name-dropped his own grandfather not even half a day ago.

"What is he like?"

Yikes. Where does she start? "He's…tall. Looks a lot like Luke, only wilder. You've got a scar, like him – " she tries to offer.

"I know what he looks like," he corrects her. "Forgive me…what I mean to say was, what is he _like_?"

She detects the true delicate nature behind that fumble, but ignores it. Decisively, she sits up, wanting to see his face as she tells him. She wants that intimacy. "He's…he's got a sense of humor. Not exactly something that's passed down the Skywalker line. He'd do anything for his friends, and he made the strangest kinds of them. He made Threepio, but maybe you already know that. And Artoo used to come with his Clone War missions, which I think is funny. He's clever, always a step ahead. Sad, though. Still haunted by what he's done. But…optimistic, too. Very hopeful. Even in death. He's so strong. It made me think…" she hesitates. She doesn't want to _sound_ like a girl with a crush. "It made me think, that if _he_ can come back, into the Light, that…you know."

She wonders what would have happened if she had thrown this information at Kylo Ren's way, in any of their fights. That time in that cave, where they barely spoke to each other, had them fuming and hissing like cats at each other.

Now she feels the sun shining from him for perhaps the first time, even considering Sher-hatha. He never offered her this much affection in the way he looks at her, right now.

Feeling urged to continue, to do anything and fill up the space, she thinks quickly. "Y'know, he – he would have done something like this. What we're doing, rescuing people. With people like Niall and Korla."

She tells him more, of details involving how exactly Anakin's upbringing as a slave was. His grumpy and abusive master, Watto, the junkyard he worked in that would simmer to twice the temperature with all the sun-flecked metal; the swears he picked up in Huttese, almost his mother tongue; the podraces and feeling like there was no other purpose out in Mos Espa, for in that corner of the galaxy he was a hero; his mother, the woman who was his home, and the gentle songs she learned from other slaves to help him sleep during sand storms; the way he would tilt his head conspiratorially, blue eyes and all, that would solidify the fact that he had romanced a woman as unattainable as a regal senator.

There is keen, avid interest brimming from Ben. With every comment about how his grandfather's joked about Luke's cooking, or Anakin's infectious, goofy laugh whenever Rey fucked up during training, it's all fuel to his burning curiosity. Rey almost has to look a little past him sometimes, not quite maintain eye contact, because…well, he looks so fulfilled, so _happy_ to know these things.

Eventually, he turns away in deep thought. "He sounds more like you than me," Ben offers ruefully.

That takes her by surprise. "What? You mean, 'cause we both had rough childhoods?"

"You both have a talent for…making the strangest friends. I remember thinking of you with that BB unit following you like a pet. You both…had difficult childhoods, but you reshaped them. There is this pride about you, and I think there was in Luke, that you were of a stronger species than ordinary people. You wear it like it's a form of nobility."

Rey's snickering at that because she has always felt something to prove around the people she's met. And of course, she's been mothered by a former princess.

Ben looks pleased. His voice is more subdued now, adding, "You're sharp. Endlessly resourceful. Compassionate. Passionate…"

There's a shiver running down Rey's spine that threatens to make her brittle. She imagines bursting into little pieces of ice in front of him, so self-conscious in front of Ben now.

What is happening between them? Is this all an effect from close quarters? Or does any of it – the affectionate barbs, the sudden flares of temper, the touching; what does he want with her?

Does he even want her? Is he honestly even _attracted_ ….?

He can't be. Not too long ago, he had pushed her away at the vision of them kissing. Rey hasn't forgotten that, or the times she's apologized for it. For herself.

It's all too much to think about. It doesn't matter, though. What this is, right now, is just fine.

There is a deep, brooding expression marring Ben's sensitive face. "I wish he had come to me. Do you know how many times I prayed for him? To guide me?" he admits in a mocking tone. "Why does he come to you and not me?"

Many times before, Rey's thought of him as selfish to demand so much from his family, a family he's lucky to have. But Rey knows this isn't what he needs to hear. "He's been there. He was there when you were born. When you…when you first learned how to fly. When you picked up your first lightsaber."

Through the Force she can pick up how wounded he feels, that someone besides his grotesque former master was watching over him. But the softness that was once there is gone, replaced with flat judgment and the whites of his eyes. "And when Snoke first called out to me? Where was he then?"

Rey sighs heavily. If only he knew how often she asked Anakin that.

And why does he not appear to them now? Ben needs his grandfather's guidance more than ever. Rey's tired of these ups and downs with him.

She leans back just enough to feel her lightsaber against her back. "We haven't sparred in a while."

Ben frowns at the unexpected remark, but recovers, surmising the hanger bay around them. In another instant he rises gracefully to his feet.

"I thought you would never ask."


	19. Chapter 19

The Call to the Light

Chapter 19

Sparring produces an equal level of releasing stress than meditation, if not more. Ben's inherent temper and years of discipline under Snoke is like a ship channeled by the current of movement. As Rey parries Ben's powerful blows, dodges his cuts with spins and wide arcs, his head clears a great deal.

Ben's grand form demands it, too. He is packed with energy, expelling in his tight-knit eyebrows and his grit teeth. When they separate, he swipes his saber in quick, pensive movements to loosen his grip.

She's gotten more graceful. She's not some aggressive thing anymore. He secretly marvels at how she's adapted. Secretly he wonders at what kind of pupil she would have been in the beginning, when they first engaged each other on Starkiller, in the snow.

Uncle Luke was a good teacher. The two of them (three, if he includes his elusive grandfather) would have no doubt bonded as desert creatures.

They have the whole space of the hanger to even chase each other, leaping through the assistance of the Force over the railings and staircases.

It should annoy him whenever Rey smiles under his grip, forcing her to almost buckle when their sabers clash. She's using only one of her connected blades "to make it an even fight."

Inside, he is melting. He has to throw twice as much strength for fear of doing the same thing.

There is one moment where Rey actually throws her saber into the air, distracting his gaze for an instant before sliding on her knees to knock him off his feet. His own saber remains in his grip, but barely – just as her hands begin to wrestle it out of his own.

 _Clever - !_ he realizes as he grabs at her out of desperation. She'll always fight dirty, no matter how well her technique improves. _Bitch_ , he thinks in muddled pride.

They scramble to a top position. He has her pinned, straddling her for a moment before she does something unexpected with her legs, shuffling them upward until her hips pop him off her like a spring lever. Her fingernails dig into his palm as she reverses their positions. He throws out a hand at her neck, then her tied-back hair, forcing the pale gold flesh to tilt back as she steadily brings his saber towards it.

He is patient. She is equally as strong as him, despite their height and weight difference. In a minute her chest heaves as the saber glows against her pulsing neck.

The whites of her eyes suggest mild panic at losing the fight. "Break?" she croaks.

 _No,_ he wants to say. If they were still enemies he would not relent. He would have her down and begging, his determination overflowing like an out-of-control cannon.

Even on his back, under her, he does not want to end this. She is warm, her knee poking at his thigh, not quite sitting on his lap but dangerously close. Her hair, tied back in her several knots (always tied back in his presence, never unbound) escapes in thin wisps that brush against his face.

This is unnatural. Get her off, off and away.

But he wants to stay. The lightsaber is the only thing that separates their breathing, flushed forms.

She is not small, but even up close he marvels at how perfectly she fits against him, slight and strong and equally as grand as himself. He even knows her scent, heady as the desert yet pure as the rain. It teases him…he wonders what she would taste like…

The lightsaber is extinguished, though not as quickly as his…these sensations.

With a heavy breath he drops his hands and lets her rise with shaky legs. He does feel less heavy from the previous thoughts of guilt, from the cruel vermin he's slayed, but something still lingers under his muscles like aftershock.

Rey collapses next to him in a careless heap. Against his better instincts, Ben watches her greedily heave gulps of air. It's as distantly obscene as the way she eats.

The silence stretches between them as their bodies cool. He does not mind it, her presence. From this appropriate distance he can observe her, with his shields up to protect his thoughts.

"Do you know anything about your grandmother?"

Force, she still wants to talk about _that_. All this new information about his grandfather, the man he worshipped like a black god, swirls inside him. It's more likely to imagine Anakin Skywalker as Rey, stubborn and strong, than the emaciated hybrid boy he's healed upstairs.

He's relieved to know enough about his grandmother, Padme Amidala: A politician in her pre-teen years and a queen at fourteen; a beloved senator and a stalwart presence in the Galactic Senate. Though Snoke had passed on the flaws of the Republic, even he had noted how fierce of a supporter she was, even as her mentor, the Emperor Palpatine, grew in his own power.

Ben remembers being fourteen years old and realizing, though he was still a padawan under his uncle's tutelage, that the women in his family had been commanding entire planets. The woman his own mother knew as little as himself is perhaps the one true symbol of his unique origins than anyone else, especially his father's murky upbringing. Leia perhaps was relieved to see so much in common between herself and the legendary senator of Naboo, a woman of incomparable beauty, wisdom and grace, a fearless leader in the senate.

Though he knew of his infamous grandfather before then, it was impossible to consider that these two very great individuals had bonded together, as man and wife. They obviously worked together in the Clone Wars, but Ben could never even guess what it was that made them the parents of his mother and uncle.

He explains this to Rey, wondering how much she knows about his family, if she knows more about Padme Amidala than himself.

"My mother allowed me to ask questions about her, but I figured out she knew as little as I did. We lived in Naboo for a time, when I was growing up. I assumed it was her way of acknowledging she was Padme's daughter and not her adopted mother, Breha. I eventually started to read about her, thinking my mother didn't like not being able to answer questions about her. As far as…her relationship to my grandfather…" he looks up at Rey. It's something not even Uncle Luke was allowed to talk about. Anything so much as vaguely related to Anakin Skywalker was strictly forbidden. "You haven't tried to ask her about it, have you?"

Rey shakes her head. "I'd rather leave it alone. I ask because," she hesitates. " _He_ says you're more…well, to him, you remind him more of your grandmother than himself."

Ben blinks in mild surprise. He supposes, in terms of a childhood, he shared more in common with a queen and a princess than a slave. Though he doubts Rey's about to call him spoiled.

"You're more…elegant, cool. You're both fiery, but you handle authority very well. I mean, when you don't lose your temper, you do it almost effortlessly. He never felt good commanding people. Says he felt too much like a master and it never worked well for him."

Ben relaxes at this description. In another life…if he hadn't been Force-sensitive, he suspects he would have followed his maternal family's footsteps and pursued a political career.

Still. He cannot help the question, one of the biggest mysteries in his life. "I've always wondered how the two of them…how they met. How he betrayed the Jedi Code for her. How she could have allowed it."

Rey sits up and leans on her hands. "Well, they're both good-looking people."

"Be serious, Rey."

"I am!" she laughs. "That's how love works, in case you weren't sure. It's like the Force, it just _happens_. Anyways, it's not like they did anything wrong. If the Jedi Order had been okay with him marrying, maybe things wouldn't have been so bad."

Her ability to reason away Anakin Skywalker's downfall with such simplicity stokes the need to cast her down. "But his power was unbelievable. Something would have gone wrong. He was so easily corrupted."

"Maybe not. The Jedi could have counseled him. He said he was so afraid of Padme dying, he was afraid of the Order punishing him, and he walked into the Emperor's trap. If he felt he could trust the other Jedi, maybe things would have been different."

Ben peers into her with his black eyes. What Snoke told him was a different story. Yes, the Jedi could not be trusted, but that was because they both feared him and were envious of his power. His attachment to Amidala…was seen as a perversion, a diversion from his path to absolute dominion of the galaxy. He never thought such an explanation, especially from Rey, could redeem The Chosen One's dark intentions against the galaxy.

"I'm surprised at how sympathetic you are to him. After everything he'd done."

"They're your grandparents. They loved each other. They didn't do anything wrong," she repeats blindly. Innocently.

"Jedi don't make romantic attachments," he lectures her. Hadn't Uncle Luke _covered_ this with her?! "They make a vow of celibacy. Romantic love is an easy corruption. It's how my grandfather fell under the spell of the Dark Side."

"No one should ever be punished for wanting to protect the people they love," Rey responds with more vigor. "That makes no sense. I'd happily give up my Jedi powers if it meant protecting someone I…cared about."

Ben scoffs, dismissing her as ridiculous. Except that he knows she would. She's shown this to him back at Sher-hatha when her friend the pilot died. It was a marvelous, damning declaration, one he could not admit himself. The Force is all he's had.

She narrows her eyes a little. "Haven't you ever loved someone as much?"

Ben's face is already fair, but it he blanches with a caught look. "Excuse me?"

"Well, besides – your family," she chatters lamely. "I mean…" Wow, this was a terrible question. "Like, in the past."

He's more aware of his features making him look like a gaping fish than ever. Quickly he recovers with cool indifference. "I'm a Jedi," Ben finally says. Feeling vulnerable, tension creeping into his stationary form, he gets up.

"That – that path," he mutters poisonously, "is the quickest way to the Dark Side. I won't go back." The last vow sounds too vulnerable so he switches tactics. "You say it's how Anakin Skywalker fell; that he couldn't save my grandmother and so he became paranoid. He refused to lose her and exchanged thousands of Jedi lives for her. You're saying it's acceptable?"

"Anakin Skywalker fell because he had a creep Sith hanging over his back. You've left your master and you know now, how the Dark Side works. Besides, it wasn't love that killed them."

He finds himself momentarily defenseless at her conviction so he throws out, "I'm sure _he_ would make you think that."

"What do you know, anyways?"

Ben resists the desire to roll his eyes. "I don't have to _know_ anything."

"But do you? I mean…" she persists, pushing like a thorn. "You're, what, thirty? You must have – "

This desire to know everything about him makes Ben want to expel her from this room, from this whole ship. He feels so weak around her that her treatment of him, in Ben's opinion, is little different than Snoke. Constantly battering his walls and sneaking around to cripple him, to own him.

She would not hurt as much, but the pain she can inflict is more different, more piercing than he is prepared to withstand. She burns hotter and brighter than any star, and he is helpless against it.

If she hasn't been so foolish in her own right, coming so close to him, leaning into his face to seek whatever secrets he keeps there, searing him with the desire to kiss him…

All at once the fight leaves him. He looks down at Rey, carefully guarded yet kind look. He does not want to hurt her. But still, he must keep her away.

"Rey, I cannot give you what you want."

sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Rey feels the cold draft of the hanger bay's open space. She's careful to not instantly recoil, though she does withdraw from his touch.

"I – I know that," she begins. She feels guilty, uncomfortable in her own skin.

He doesn't have to keep reminding her.

"Yet you ask too much, and – I think I understand why," he tries to explain. "All you know is loneliness."

What is that supposed to mean? That she's so desperate for contact?

"And all you _prefer_ to know is loneliness," Rey hits back. It is a blow she hopes hurts him. He's been so damn stubborn. He's jabbed randomly that he is superior to her, that her opinion doesn't matter, essentially that he doesn't need her. But she KNOWS differently. She knows his soul softens at the sight of her, and that he'd be screwed without her. If he's so intent on punishing himself, he can have his way, finally.

As soon as she's ready to walk away from him, she does, offering some lame excuse that she prefers to sleep in her room inside the _Falcon_.

When she goes through the corridors, it is a relief that they are hers, on the way to a safe place where she can erect her walls and openly vent her frustration, a cavernous, volcanic heat that hurts like an old sting.

She punches the wall. What is wrong with her? Why is she foolish and weak, and short-tempered near him? Why does she want him, when all he's done is refuse her?

Why can't she want someone nice like Poe instead?

Sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Come back.

That is what the voices said, in the dream. It's on the edge of his tongue right now as she hops off and into the Falcon.

It's no use, fighting this. He does need her. His soul feels clouded when she isn't here.

Sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Rest does not come. She is alone under the covers, wearing only shorts and a thin shirt. Under her skin, she's still tight with…she just wants to let go, of all of it.

She's heard of a way women…women who get a certain kind of itch-learn how to relieve themselves. Jess had explained it to her in detail. Not that Rey trusted herself to tell Jess that she had a single sexual experience with a man.

She's in her own room, so she's got enough privacy.

Oh. Wait. _Privacy_.

She hastily puts up mental shields so Ben, if he's checking on her, won't disturb her. Fiddling with the drawstring of her shorts, she lowers her hand under, and conjures something, _anything_.

Her legs are bare, which is the first sign. The feel of a metal table against her is the first trick. She's not used to being so bare, in the cold, too. Her hair's down from its usual knots and it's swinging around her. She's not wearing a breastband.

Down below, Rey's making a slow, pressured circle around her – what do they call this thing, here? The thing Niall seemed to find that Rey had never known existed on her own body before. The small nub, like the tight-packed bud of a flower, makes her lurch in the bed.

 _Ohhh…._

Her legs are spread. She's not yet naked, but someone's touching her.

Niall. Hah, that'll do it. Not Ben and his idiot monk's perspective on life. Niall's scarred face and broken nose don't really do it for her, but that knowing look penetrates her, makes her feel all womanlike. Blue eyes like the sky, merry and warm.

She imagines the tent, and the cool-warm air making her feel deliciously exposed. No. She doesn't feel right in this tent. It's too simple. She wants to feel something harder. Not the melting warmth of the tent under the arid planet, but the scrape of bark and fingernails in a chilly, dense woods.

Black-clad muscles are pressed hurriedly, blindly, against her. Or she's pressing the dark shape against the tree, she can't remember. And then her breasts shiver when her outer robes are being removed piece by piece by gloved hands.

"Oh!" Rey pants. Immediately, she clamps a hand over her mouth. Someone could have heard her! Damnit…

 _Come on_ , she urges herself. _I need this, just get it over with._

Her hands are not quite right. In her frustration she switches them. These methods were once forbidden, out of embarrassment the first time in the few nights after Niall brought her to some unknown paradise: one hand swirling around her slit, giving away from the rough touch, the other ghosting across her breast.

Niall had teased and shaped her like a craftsman, practiced despite way he hitched his curling sour breath. "Kriff almighty, girl," he had whispered against her neck, biting her there, darting his tongue against her ear. "You're some death goddess, you have no idea."

She _didn't_ have any idea: what was happening, what he was doing to her.

Ben. Would Ben have any idea? He hadn't said…has he done anything like this?

She imagines he is looming over her as before, his strong, large hands soft as cream upon her. His hands have known violence but they aren't as tarnished as hers, callused from clawing through old shipyards. She imagines she, herself, is just as soft, fine and lovely, yielding under his hesitant, burning touch.

She _knows_ he wants some part of this, to belong to someone. Knowing how passionate his is, hasn't he ever yearned for this, even as a Padawan? Locked in his rooms? Has he been overcome with the desire to have someone, growing up in the Jedi temple, his biology sparking beyond his control? What about when he left the New Order? Were the rules…less restrictive? Deep in the dark, where primal urges and pain ruled him: did he ever –

Her ministrations stutter to a halt. Thoughts of the New Order and Ben's change of allegiance makes her tumble against her will, to the Second Purge. He would not care for lust, not for the lust of another being. The only desire he would have had were of murder, bloodshed.

 _Sick_ , something whispers inside her. Hot tears of self-disgust make her implode. _You're sick. It's wrong, all wrong. You want to be good, but you lie with monsters and thieves._

 _No_ , she thinks, shaking her head in whimper. _He's…he's not a killer anymore._

 _This ship reeks with his spoils_! The whisper hisses. _And he does it for_ _ **you**_ _. You have not changed him, not by an inch…_

Rey has no idea where this phantom is coming from, if it is a manifestation of her own fears, or Snoke himself.

… _all you've done is become his new master._

Sitting up now, Rey reaches out for her lightsaber, fully convinced something will come through her door.

"Not true," she repeats, so low and thin that it disappears under her panicked breaths. "Not true, not true, not true."

The whispers leave, like smoke, but the damage has been made. Rey shakes, hating herself, half-naked and feeling thick with sweat that makes her want to peel her skin off.

Sinking back under the covers, she chokes pained sobs and hot tears.


	20. Chapter 20

The Call to the Light

Chapter 20 complete

Ben's allowed their connection through the Force to evaporate. If she goes to sleep, he doesn't want to sense her barriers fall in favor of loose, tempting dreams spilling into his consciousness. Her emotions are like a sudden chilly night that leaves him exposed and lonely, missing the warmth. Feeling defeated, pained at how Rey left him, he exits the hanger and ascends to the main cabin.

Even with the change of atmosphere, the amber-colored lights and the ratty sofas, Ben wants to scream. He is overcome with some foreign need to run back downstairs and find Rey, to remain in her company. It sounds deeply pathetic. Light-years away from Snoke and he still feels like he needs to belong to someone.

The brat, Terric, is thankfully tucked in a corner with the same datapad. Ben doesn't have to look to know he's there – the boy's cool dislike marks his presence enough. It's the only thing that's bothered Ben more than that broken-nosed, blue eyed changeling who has…a _history_ with Rey. Remembering Terric's recent acidic behavior over the slavers, Ben keeps note of those plum-colored eyes aimed at him while he walks toward Rumley. "Where are the others?"

The Bothan cautiously steps over some of the child slaves, putting away empty bowls and cups. "Oh. Niall's set a course to his friends' place. Korla… well, he's taken a liking to her, so Force only knows whose hand is up whose shirt by now."

 _At least someone's enjoying themselves_ , he thinks tersely. Of course, he groans in distaste. "When are we expected to arrive on this hideaway planet?"

"No more than an hour, I imagine. These poor slaves haven't had much rest."

Nodding absently, Ben looks around for a bare spot on the floor to sit. He leans against the wall and allows the metal to cool him. His heart still beats erratically, from learning about his grandfather, from the fight…

They didn't do anything wrong, Rey said. Of course, it didn't seem that way. Anakin Skywalker wasn't a murderer before he met his grandmother. Not like Ben.

His scavenger's grown bolder in her feelings toward him, too, damn her. He doesn't have the heart to snap at her, not anymore. He cringes at the way she had tried to soothe him after killing those slave traders, shamelessly, their body parts strewn at their feet. Her tender breaths on his face.

And just now, leaning over him, across his lap, her neck ripe, so much like in the shared Force-vision he asked to see of Rey and Niall, hot and vibrant, waiting to be tasted…

"You haven't eaten," Rumley tells him in the most inopportune time.

Ben casts his dark eyes at the Bothan. "I don't imagine there's anything left."

"We saved some for you and Rey." Rumley points to two bowls of whatever, still warm.

When he retrieves one of them and sits back down, he is pleased to hear Terric shuffle irritably out of the room.

Before he exits through the door, Ben extends two fingers and watches where Terric lets go of the datapad, where Ben swiftly lets it float over to an empty chair.

The part-Zabrak's kept his nose in that thing for too long for Ben to not notice. The redeeming Jedi may not be able to pursue an unethical method of acquiring truth through mind probes; even if Rey wasn't on the ship with him…just the idea of her disappointment has made him stop.

So, stealing and hacking into private property will have to do. His father Han Solo would be _so_ proud.

He waits for Rumley to turn in some other direction before striding over to the chair. The datapad is a recent model. Out here, only fakes or ancient models would have been available. The boy, according to Rumley, is a tight-lipped lawless wannabe from the Inner Rim. What kind of secrets does he keep on this professional-level piece of equipment?

"Delta-one-five-dash-four-six-three," Rumley offers behind his back. Ben hadn't expected him to offer the password without even a question. Bothans, however, know everything. "I'd check the bottom left file named 'Jarie', if I were you."

Ben shoots Rumley a mild look of concern. The name. It can't possibly be…?

His fingers dance over the keypad to open the file. Self-doubt and ghosts of his slain surround him like an oncoming storm.

One of the first images is of a girl, a teenager with small horns, two braids, and facial tattoos that could have been perceived as cute and fashionable for a Zabrak. In another image, she hugs what has to be a ten-year-old version of _Terric_ – in another, she practices lightsaber forms next to a Padawan Ben doesn't recognize.

Drawing in a sharp breath, Ben's vision blurs. Jarie was a Force-sensitive Uncle Luke discovered when she was twelve. She wasn't much older than Ben when he started living at the temple; he remembers they shared some classes together. She, like other new trainees in Luke's New Jedi Order, had been raised by a family who protected her from the Empire.

A trembling lurch of his stomach helps Ben remember the last time he saw her. She was fierce, surprising him with a war cry of her own. Ben had been standing over the fresh corpse of his fellow students, their flesh soaking in the mud and rain. Jarie's lightsaber was an odd shade of a sunset. It had blazed in vengeful madness. Almost on autopilot, Ben's movements were calculated, programmed to wait out her energy and trigger her weakness.

He had killed her. He had killed this woman in Terric's life. Is she a cousin, or sister?

The next files are on Hosnia, and all their press-covered horrors. Ben scrolls past them, swallowing.

There's a tell-tale itch, a pull from the back of his head. He ignores it in favor of something that robs his attention, for the most demanding of all these documents is (finally, FINALLY!) the much-talked-about Holonet report about his identity leak, is in Ben's hands:

KYLO REN UNMASKED: LEIA ORGANA'S SON?

His eyes scan each word like demons on the prowl: _A leaked recording has been released in which a secret executive meeting of the Resistance leaders was called on short-term notice by General Leia (formerly Princess of Alderaan) Organa Solo. In a brief statement to her high-ranking compatriots, including General Statura and Admiral Ackbar, the General reveals that Kylo Ren, the monster of the First Order's tyrranical regime and First Knight of Ren, is none other than her thought-to-be-deceased son, Ben Organa Solo._

Below, condemning his fate, he reads his mother's own (alleged) words in the transcript.

 _Gen. Organa: I don't…I don't know why I'm telling you this, other than that I saw it with my own eyes. Several of my staff did as well. I won't reveal their names, but…Kylo Ren is my son. It's Ben. I've known it since the Second Purge. He is alive now, and he's escaped his master, Snoke. I know this because…it was my brother Luke's plan to rescue him, to get him out. And he's escaped. He's defected from the First Order. He has sworn this statement to me, and on all that is true and powerful, I swear that this is the truth._

 _The General has a lot to answer for: the murder of innocents, including younglings as young as five, countless torture victims (including the scion of the Resistance, Poe Dameron) and the destruction of the Hosnian System. By the time the war's over, it will not be this "Kylo Ren/Ben Solo" monstrosity whose head will be set upon a spike…it will be Leia Organa's, also._

Dread leeching his face, Ben scans the page for the name of the author, but cannot find any: _On behalf of this publication, the legal name of this author has been withdrawn for protection. He has decided to retain the alias of Anonymous._

Terric is the author. He knows it.

The hunger to punish wracks his form. Before he can think on how to torture the answers out of Terric (even if he can't), the disturbance in his head echoes for his attention. He has to blink away the oncoming headache.

Ben's been lucky; he's been protected, a little bit, by his selfishness and desire to forget all he's done around Rey; to convince himself he deserves all she expects (wants) of him. Even when he's denied the foolish idea that someone like her could want something like him, it's been such an absurd idea that it's practically eclipsed having to absorb all his crimes.

This picture of Jarie is more proof; unending, miserable proof that he will never, ever be good, that there is some terrible fate that awaits him.

"Ben? Solo, are you all right?"

Whoever's talking, he can't hear them; the Force is giving a tremor of premonitions that Ben has to be quiet for.

 _In it he sees three faces: the golden boy, Dameron, looking up at him in fear, but without revulsion. He looked up at him, eyes wide and begging, with desperation._

 _The next is of a masked man in black taking off his mask, his green Mirialan skin a contrast to the red saber reflecting his profile – Zonak Ren, second only to Kylo Ren in prowess and ferocity._

 _The last is of Rey offering him the fullest, brightest smile he has ever seen. Her eyes sparkle like newborn stars, like amber fire. Though he isn't aware of it, he gasps at the idea that he could kiss each one; truly, he feels that right now he can melt away into nothing with the image of her wholesome goodness aimed his way._

 _What doesn't make more sense is that she is lying down. And, from the angle of the vision, so is he…._

 _Force_ Almighty _._

"Is, uh…is there a private room?" Ben feels the customary headache coming on, enough to make him wince. Force users usually experience minor effects as part of visions, but Ben's always felt like heavy migraines. "I need to meditate."

Rumley's ears twitch in concern. "Sure. I think, down the hall – "

His eyes begin to sting, and Ben needs to lie down, to breathe in peace. He waves his thanks and gropes around the corridor for the door.

The minute he's alone, something warm creeps under his skin. The Force is like a too-warm blanket around him, stubborn yet soft like a living thing. It doesn't feel foreign at all, only for the fact that this warmth is something he has refused so long, and Ben is so tired and alone that he cannot fight it anymore.

It's _her._ Somehow, her connection through the Force has bloomed into something akin to a sunrise, to blood rushing through veins, sudden and wholesome. Ben briefly has to hold himself up, lest he feel disoriented by this sudden, heady sensation.

It is unlike anything he has experienced coming from her. It's as if spice is being vented into the air, and Ben suffocates sweetly from it.

In the privacy of this space, as if he is back in that sepulcher-like cell high above the sea in Sher-hatha, Ben lets all the trappings of control and _Jedi_ stoicism away, expelling it until he shivers.

He is so alone that it hurts. But he cannot…he would condemn himself to ruin along with her, all over again.

And now. Now, now some _boy_ threatens to take all that away from him –

 _Rey_. Ben gets to his feet and begins to pace. She did want to be left alone, but Terric's datapad sits traitorously across from him, containing more of his past sins. _Rey, I need to speak to -_

The wall he encounters protecting her mind isn't summoned up quickly enough. The sweetest fire he felt a minute ago is extinguished, raw, replaced with this torn wound that makes Ben gasp, reaching across his skin at his own heart.

 _How does she hurt this way?_

 _Because you deny her_ , the voice inside him echoes.

The room squeezes in like a cell. He needs to see her. He doesn't want to hurt her. He wants to protect her (forever, if he can fantasize about it). He remembers how she caved in on him in her wild grief, holding onto him. If there was ever a time he felt he truly could be in the Light again and not burn, it was when he held her, and her gentle, flickering soul, weakened like a candle on that coast.

He's made her smaller. The only one who can save him, and he's torn her down.

Grabbing the datapad, he leaves the room, meaning to go to her.

He's seized in the middle of the hallway, though, his presence in the Force suddenly jarred by a disturbance outside of the freighter. He senses the hum of several ships, like pinpricks along the same tunnel of hyperspace as they are.

Someone's coming for them. It's a familiar presence, one who's sweated under his torture methods a long time ago. He thinks wildly: How?! No one knows where they are.

Except for the apparent spy, Terric, on the ship.

 _Not like this. Not now. They'll take me away. I can't leave her…!_

Anonymity was the only thing that has protected them. Even with this news leak, he and Rey were hiding in the least traceable area in the galaxy. It was reasonably assumed the First Order or the Resistance wouldn't concentrate on one – two – Jedi when they have an entire war to win.

He doesn't think he'd be wrong.

It's too late. He's done for. It's all over for him.

Ben pulls himself up, glaring in the direction of the cockpit.

On his way there, Rumley watches him and his whiskers twitch in concern. "What are you doing? We still need to be in hyperspace for another hour."

"There's a ship full of Resistance fighters waiting for me."

Ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Rey shoots out of bed. Not only has the ship stopped, but there's a familiar presence in the Force, screaming at her to go to it.

Though non-Force-sensitives do not have as unique signatures as her Jedi companion, she can hear this newcomer's own charismatic aura. This time, it's tampered like steel, sharp and determined.

She runs down the ramp, still in her sleeping clothes. A single carrier docks neatly inside of the hanger next to the _Falcon_. A dozen soldiers in Resistance garb line up, armed with blasters.

Poe Dameron is among them.


	21. Chapter 21

The Call to the Light

Chapter 21 complete

Rey's stomach lurches. As much as she's missed Poe Dameron, whom she hasn't seen in months, she really, really wishes he wasn't here right now, especially armed with a bunch of other Resistance guys. And especially when she's in her thin sleeping clothes.

"Poe!" she calls to him, smoothly – though it's no use, as all the blasters click in her direction.

Poe's eyes widen "Easy, easy!" he warns them. He lowers his own and jogs right up to her.

"What are you doing here? No one's heard from you in over a week!" he chastises her like she is an errant sibling.

Rey is swallowed up in his embrace before she can try to assemble some explanation. Finn is not with them. Neither is Chewbacca, Kivi, or even Leia.

Dread creeps into her chest. Poe's encounter with Kylo Ren is only shadowed by her own duels with him, but he's carried those mortifying memories as a wound that will forever fester, incentive for each day he's been a part of the Resistance. Rey knows exactly how Ben tortured her friend, the star pilot and favorite son of the Resistance. If Poe finds Ben on this ship, he'll kill him.

Her inability to explain _everything_ in five seconds is forgotten by the sound of a loaded blaster.

"Up here, _Rebel scum_ , you're completely surrounded." Niall's voice drawls high above in the catwalks. She can sense Rumley and Terric nearby, too.

All the weapons Poe's men have on them are aimed high up at the catwalks. Rey tampers down her irritation over Poe's hand, stretched back to protect her.

Poe sizes up the smartass hiding in the shadows. "We're usually called the Resistance these days."

"That right, pretty boy?"

Poe's stupidly cute eyes turn to Rey for an explanation. All she can do is shrug. "He's…nicer once you charm him." She eyes Niall. "Are the women all right?"

"Korla's with 'em now. They're not happy to know a buncha guys with guns are aboard our ship. Now want to explain to me why you forced me to let you board, you little prick?" he demands Poe.

The soldiers' weapons are still drawn while Poe glares up steadily. "You have a wanted criminal on board this ship."

Niall's all sass now. "Oh! _A_ wanted criminal? Just the one?"

"Perhaps you've heard of him," Poe cuts quickly. "Kylo Ren."

"He's right there," said Terric's voice, though Rey can't see him. "By the stairs."

"Sir! To your left!"

All at once Poe and his men click their weapons in the direction. Ben, the stupid idiot, leans forward like he's about to greet the intruders. His dark profile is blazed with a shower of blaster bolts –

Though they don't touch him. They spark around his person and crackle angrily at missing their target.

Of course he'd use the Force against the Resistance Ops. What surprises everyone – including Rey – is her own outstretched arms blocking the bolts from harming him.

Away from the glow, Ben gives Rey a strange look. His eyes scan her rapidly, and Rey finds herself straightening at her clothes and her hair.

Something's different, though. He's usually looked at her with disinterest, or incredulity (usually because she'd done something stupid). This time, though, she feels distinctly uncomfortable, as if she should shield herself from his intensity. _Not naked or anything_ , she reminds herself irritably as she looks away.

When Ben turns to Poe, he waves a hand. The blaster bolts disappear, and with another flick of his fingers, all the blasters in the Resistance members' hands fly out and are thrown behind Ben.

Verbal protests are allowed for a second before Ben freezes the soldiers. His drawing in of the Force is a strong undercurrent that surely even Niall, Rumley and Terric must feel.

Confident in his safety, he walks right up to Poe. Rey watches him for any signs of bullishness, but he remains polite as a host. "I won't deny you the chance to welcome me to the Resistance. There's a lot you want to say to me. Go ahead."

Rey assumes incorrectly that Poe is under Ben's thrall, too. The pilot lunges at the Jedi with a lightning-fast uppercut.

"You traitorous bastard!" Poe swore with every hit. "You monster! You…dick!"

Rey cringes, but doesn't try to interfere. She's glad she isn't crying for Poe to stop. It won't be right, and it'll ignore how her friend second to Finn had been hurt, tortured.

Detachedly, she watches Poe throw brutal punches at Ben, who, taller and more skilled in combat, doesn't defend himself. He's letting Poe hit him, in the face and torso, absorbing every blow with silent acceptance.

Oh. Okay. Five more punches, then she'll break them up.

But Ben's eyes turn into embers when he speaks to Poe. "Go ahead. Do it." He reaches behind for where Rey knows he keeps his lightsaber.

"Okay, Poe, um – " Rey barely says.

Saber out, Ben holds out his hands to stop Poe's fists. "Go ahead. You know you want to do it."

Suddenly Rey senses the purpose behind Ben's eerie calm. "Wait – "

"Rey – don't." Even though he's still keeping the two dozen fighters still through the Force, he extends his power to briefly block her. He stares at her with the need to be understood. "Just stop."

Alarmed, Rey watches Ben size up Poe, who is panting and vexed. He holds out Luke's lightsaber without hesitation. "Strike me down if you wish. I won't stop you."

"What the kriff?!" Rey barks.

Poe, who was staring at the offer like it would burn his hand off, suddenly seizes the hilt as though it will disappear. His eyes nervously dart between his enemy (who honest to kriff just got to his knees like he's a sacrifice) and wherever the damn switch is on the saber.

He finally ignites it. With a hypnotic focus, the pilot angles the blade at Ben's neck.

Rey watches the scene unfold, unable to control it. She can easily separate them through the Force, take the lightsaber and clunk Ben on the head with it. But she needs to see…she reasons that maybe, after being in her room earlier…she can't protect him all the time. She has no reason to, if she continues to call herself good.

Ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

What Rey doesn't realize is that, while she watches her _dear_ friend, Dameron, Ben's attention is split between the pilot and her. All he can see despite the blue glow is how her hair is finally down; natural in its appearance, and yet attributing to some ethereal nature about her.

She is as barely clad in her nightclothes as when he first caught her washing the stink of the dead sand shark on Sher-hatha. From his position near to the ground, her legs appear longer, leaner. She's even barefoot. There is something more feral about her, having been roused from sleep, that makes her symmetrical, boyish face and cat eyes appear more enhanced. Her aura is so flushed and torn that something – a dream, perhaps – has left a physical wrinkle about her.

She's gorgeous, and he's not even completely looking at Rey.

Fucking Poe Dameron. He remembers the man who, as a boy from Yavin, the son of two Rebel pilots, had drawn smiles and warm words of praise from his childhood. Before, Kylo Ren had buried him, and upon encountering him again on Jakku, dismissed him as another Resistance radical. Even as he ripped through Dameron's mind, there was a cool, clinical detachment in the act, unwilling to visit Dameron's memories as the awkward child from their pasts.

Now, there is something terribly inferior clawing through his chest at the way Dameron stands so closely to his Jedi companion. If anything, Dameron's presence is more irritating than Finn's.

Ben knows he has to let this too-perfect star soldier unleash his desire for punishment. It's only fair, but it's even more important to offer himself in some form of forgiveness if he wants to stay with Rey any longer.

Ben looks at her and half-expects her to interfere. When all she does is glower guiltily, it doesn't make him panic. Not so much. Maybe a little.

Ssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

"Poe?" Rey says in a small voice. The glow of the blue saber washes out the blood and fresh bruises on Ben's stoic face. It's all she can say. Not even "don't." It's all so wrong. She knows both of these men yet she can't fix any of it. She can't help, not with the words "sick" and "monster" still ringing in her head.

 _You're-so-stupid-this-is-so-wrong-you-could-fall-for-any-other-person-why-does-it-have-to-be-HIM-Poe-will-hate-you-you-aready-hate-yourself-don't-you-please-just-shut-these-horrible-feelings-off_

Poe's emotions are whirring inside him, though he does not move an inch. Finally, just as Rey tries to assemble the courage to summon the lightsaber out if his hand and act like a responsible Jedi (the only responsible one…), he holds the saber out to Rey's direction…though not before landing a solid kick to Ben's chest.

"I'll wait until we have a better audience," he sneers. "Arrest him."

Whether Ben's concentration is lost or he allows the Resistance to obey Poe's command, the officers snap into action. Ben remains on his knees as he is handcuffed roughly and surrounded by the officers.

Rey's hands are plastered to her face. If it's at all possible for dread to manifest as some sort of nausea, Rey can feel it. After a minute, she steps in dumbly to shut off Luke's saber, unable to look at Poe in the eye. "Is that why you came all the way out here?"

"The word's out, Rey, he's worth more than what the Resistance can afford," Poe's normally relaxed, pleasant voice hardens. "Besides, we got a distress call from this ship. Guess it's not _you_ ," he says accusingly, an ugly look of disgust aimed at her.

Though she already has an idea, Rey looks at Ben, who confirms, "Terric. Told you to watch for him."

sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Rey's managed to lead Poe to some corner of the hanger to privately talk to him. Terric will have his arse kicked, just not now.

"Was finding him the only reason you're out here?" she asks carefully, jerking her head in Ben's direction.

Poe's guarded, almost clammed, which is against his normally open nature. "There's a POW camp on Namorath. It's strictly voluntary. All these men are the only ones the Resistance can afford."

Rey's eyes sharpen at the ship Poe and his men came in. She knows the name of that camp; it's practically a death sentence for anyone who's captured, because they are never heard from again. She knows a few Resistance fighters who were captured and most likely sent there. One of them was a Coruscanti human named Bayred Jonn.

"That's all you got with you? To liberate _Namorath_?"

"When Finn and the General finally told me the truth," Poe begins, eyes and voice like lightning, "That you were out in hiding with _him_ – well, I had even more incentive to volunteer. How….." Poe's begun, like the words to a forgotten chant. " _How_ can you do this…after _everything_ we – "

Poe throws her the most wretched look of betrayal and scorn Rey's ever received. It's enough to make Rey understand what it's like to have a family member glare with disapproval.

Rey can't take it. "Poe, I can explain – "

"Has he been controlling you?"

"No," Rey swears. "I'm too strong for that."

"Are you sleeping with him?" Poe presses.

Bewildered he could even suspect that, Rey answers quickly. "No! Why would you – "

"It's the only explanation I could think of that would make sense of – any of this," Poe tells her, throwing an errant around the hanger.

"How did – did Finn or Leia tell you what happened? After Luke died?" _He must know about that_ , Rey thinks beseechingly, as if that is where she'll start to explain how _all_ of this; how Ben has rescinded the First Order, how he had been providing information as Rey recovered from Snoke's fight, how he's trained her to destroy the damn Sith. Poe _has_ to understand that.

Poe shakes away Rey's words from his head madly, making her pursue. "You trust Leia more than anything. Even when she was criticized. Have you talked to her about this?"

"Have you ignored the fact that he's killed hundreds of people? Of Jedi!?" Poe hisses, alight with contempt. "I – I can't even believe I have to be explaining this to you – you've told me how many times you wanted to kill him?!"

Panicked, Rey sends a cursory glance in Ben's direction. Still kneeling, watched over by all the Resistance men, Ben glowers at her like she is the only thing in the room. He probably can hear everything.

"I know what I said," Rey bites out, hating the ways she crosses her arms in obvious defense. "But Leia told you. She must have told you what happened."

"She's his _mother_ ," Poe begs her to understand. "Of course she'll believe that monster. My own parents would have sworn my innocence if I - "

"What, if you killed hundreds of people?" Rey challenges. "This is….this is different."

Poe shakes his head. "Of course it's different. They are _Skywalkers_ ," he reasons, speaking the name for the first time like it is a curse and not some greater symbol.

It's as if closing her eyes and growling provides the only form of relief. She needs to get the upper hand. "Kriff's sake, Poe, I'm a Jedi. I understand a little more – "

"You're my _friend_!" Poe Dameron's voice finally breaks, a hollow tear in the near-quiet around them that makes Rey want to reach out and say, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." But she can't. Her arms are as stained in blood – Poe's blood – as Kylo Ren's, as Ben's. It's why she keeps them so close to herself.

Rey can feel Ben gently prodding at the exclamation, to see if she's all right. Instinctively she pushes away at him, refusing to acknowledge his presence. If only he just didn't _exist_ right now.

The pilot has to cup his face, hiding his eyes from the noble woman he thought he knew a moment ago. "I knew him, Rey," Poe says in a pained voice. "I knew him when we were kids. He…" Poe shakes his head, trying so hard, lost in his own desperation to read Rey's mind and heart, the strange goings-on in the universe in which he, a boy of ten, met and played with the long-limbed, sensitive boy whose parents Poe had impersonated in child games.

"You…you think this is all easy for me?" Rey whispers through clenched teeth, determined to not appear stressed. "You think that I don't feel sick to my stomach? Knowing that…" she's so angry suddenly. "I haven't forgotten what he did to Finn, and to other Jedi, and to you," she utters. "I just – "

"Oh, my kriff," Poe groans. "You – you want him, don't you? Are you in love with him or something?"

Rey goes stiff with horror. "I am NOT – "

"Yes, you are!" he hisses. "No one in their right mind would protect someone so evil, Rey. Every time you go out to fight him, you never talk about it. What has he done to you?"

"Don't talk about things you don't know!" Rey bites back, scowling. She's disgusted with herself. Poe's voicing every thought she's been afraid to confront, only he does it with such vigor it'll make her disintegrate.

"Excuse me."

Ben's manifested in front of them without a sound, hands still handcuffed behind his back. He has this tight, expectant look under the bruises that Rey can easily read through, if she wasn't so wound up and sweating.

If only he could just shut up and go away. 


	22. Chapter 22

The Call to the Light

Chapter 22 complete

Ben's losing her.

The way Rey flicks her eyes at and away from him so dismissively makes Ben's stomach drop. It might not be because of his bruised and bloodied face. Something's far different about her since they parted. She's…withdrawn, to the point of…not quite how things were before, with open revulsion, but as if he is a dirty stain she tries to ignore.

In contrast, he finds himself rising to his feet, immobilizing all the officers a second time (though they've been allowed their weapons again). He walks over to them, uncaring that his hands are still behind his back. Fearing the look of rejection Rey may give him, he squares a patient expression at Poe, who's spun around with is blaster halfway out of his holster.

He shoots Ben an exasperated glare. "Get the fuck away. This is a private conversation."

The sheer indignation makes the Jedi straighten to his full height and assume his mother's regal impudence. "Are you going to waste your time acting like a child or did you even have some plan to liberate a POW camp?"

The agitation stalls Poe by a fraction. Rey won't even look at him. "Ben, not now."

"Oh – Ben?" Poe points out with delicate sarcasm. "Is that what you call him now? Like it's all some performance; just like his fucking mask, you take away - ''

" _I've been to that facility before_ ," Ben cuts in testily. "The one on Namorath, a planet made of glass shards and an orange sky. You must have been looking for it for years. The only reason you have those coordinates at all is because _I_ told them to my mother two weeks ago."

Poe struggles to keep his visual reaction to a minimum, and it's as if Rey reads his mind. "How long ago?"

"I was there when it was first built. I spent most of my training there; helped oversee construction of the main base. It's a mining labor camp that houses close to six thousand at a time." It takes a last-minute effort not to smirk. "You look like you're barely outfitted to liberate sixty."

"No one asked you for anything, killer," Poe warns.

"And yet I'm offering you help you desperately need," he threw back. He feels more desperate himself than he appears, knowing that Rey's presence toward him has significantly dimmed. Dameron is everyone's friend, everyone's son – a perfect temporary replacement his own mother apparently found suitable for him. He needs to win this man over, if at least for the short while he stands in their way to Jakku.

He doesn't even look at Rey for a split-second consultation. It's what he's 'meant to do,' isn't it? She'll praise him later.

"I may be a known enemy by now. Perhaps they've altered all access codes I've had, but I know more about where you're going than you do. They won't expect me anywhere near a lowly POW labor camp, so any surprises from high-ranking Imperial cruisers won't be coming our way. _And_ I am a Jedi."

"You're no Jedi!" Poe hisses at him.

"I _am_ ," Ben swears firmly, even baring his teeth and jutting out his chin for good measure. Even if he is taller than this prick. "Supreme Leader Snoke is no longer my master….If anything, _she_ is."

When he casts his look over to Rey, her eyes widen as if he's said something incredibly intimate about them.

Poe turns his head over to Rey and observes her open expression. "Oh, for fuck's sake."

"What _about_ Snoke?" Rey presses. "He could be there – "

"He won't." And Ben honestly believes this.

"But he'll hear about where you plan to go. He may capture you. The whole galaxy's looking for you."

"The whole galaxy has been altered by Skywalkers for generations," Ben remarks with obscene confidence. The ways she pleads her questions fuels him that his chest almost puffs out. "The day I let myself be taken away in chains is the day I allow it."

"Well, if he's saying 'pretty please,'" Poe comments below his breath, hands on his hips.

"I just – " Rey holds her hands up, exasperated. "We already _have_ a job to do."

 _Who the FUCK cares?_ Ben wants to yell, even though that is a lie – the stench of the poor women and younglings upstairs is a heady, poisonous scent that he cannot escape from.

Instead he licks his lips, feigning patience and says, "We're an hour away from our destination. And we have a ship to spare." With one hand he gestures to the _Falcon_. "Our friends can be on their way."

Rey looks displeased. She wars with herself, while he and Poe wait for her to say something.

"Yeah, who _exactly_ are these people you shacked up with, Rey?"

Shaking her head, Rey huffs and brushes past him. "I'll go...the cockpit - " she finishes lamely.

Ben watches her go, annoyed and alarmed she is willing to leave him at Dameron's mercy. She wants to escape, he senses. He ached to reach out and touch her hand, anything to reassure her. Why is she so agitated? Why does she not look at him?

He turns back to Dameron only when he feels the man's eyes burning.

"You know. Your mom is a class act. A real nice lady. I thought you were dead and thought, no woman deserves to lose her son. And then I find out," Poe makes some deep shrugging sound, shaking his head heavily. "You actually did worse. Way worse. And still she wants you. Still…."

Poe approaches Ben slowly, impressing the taller man with his lack of fear. "You don't deserve anything from her. But even that, I understand. You're her son. With _her_?" here he pointed in Rey's direction, as if it's a mark of her graceful presence. "You definitely don't."

Ben could almost grin. "Of course not. And yet I serve her all the same."

Sssssssssssssssssssss

The next hour definitely can _not_ come soon enough as Rey practically races through the freighter. She needs 1) a place to escape, and 2) fresh air to feel like she's escaped.

Now she understands Ben's necessity to punch, slash and destroy generally anything in his path, simply for the emotional overload of…peer pressure? Anxiety?

And the way he just _stared_ at her, black eyes boring into her half-dressed self, even with the blood coming from his nose and teeth.

"Kark," she mutters. _Jedi training. Remember your Jedi training._

Leaning against the wall, Rey closes her eyes and imagines the sea, and the green of the island on Ach-To. Even the cries of the beechpeckers there act as clarions to calm her.

Exhaling, she marches to the cockpit. Deft fingers fly across the controls to get the freighter on its way.

Rey doesn't want to leave the small, private space. She shouldn't be so concerned that Poe is here. She hadn't seen him in months. The last time she heard his voice….was when he relayed the message to Leia that Jess Pava had been executed by the First Order.

As if her conflicted mind has summoned him, Poe steps into the cockpit. Her hazel eyes watch him, from his relaxed, familial lean over her seat to his near-pitying, kind eyes.

 _You must hate me,_ Rey thinks to herself. _Here I am with your torturer, defending him. And I haven't even told you I'm happy to see you alive._

"Finn told me…you almost died."

Rey blinks, surprised she had almost forgotten that. Snoke didn't exactly almost kill her, but he had robbed her of any ability to move – and he had plugged her mind into a constant state of nightmares.

Poe's as loyal to the General and his comrades as Finn. To bring Finn's name into this conversation…

"He also told me that…that he saved you. That you and Luke meant to get him from the Supreme Leader."

Nodding, Rey clears her throat. "That's true. He…it's true." She wants to add more. She wants to explain they lost Jess because The First Order needed to punish them for taking Ben Solo. She wants to ramble about their super cool Jedi training lessons together, and the stupid jokes she's thought of about Ben and his unchangeable snark.

But she keeps her mouth shut because it's honestly the smartest thing she can do right now.

"I've missed you, you know."

That. That's why she's kept her mouth shut. Because they're still in a war and she's forgotten how his voice sounds.

Clumsily she gets out of the chair and throws her arms around him. This is her asking for forgiveness. He's already halfway there, sighing greatly, brushing her hair back and scuffing her cheek with his shadow.

"Oh, kriff, sweetheart," he exhales.

Rey says nothing, instead buries her head into his neck and smelling the leather and sweat into his new jacket. This is what she _should_ crave, not the sullen, prickly…prick, who only _now_ looks at her the way she's secretly fantasized.

"I didn't think you'd be stupid enough to come find me," she tells Poe.

He must be smiling his holo-perfect smile when he says, "Are you kidding? For you?" he pulls away and frames her jaw with his warm hands. "Do you know…every time you went out – to face _him_ – I always worried about you. He…" and the shadow of memory returns. A dark, bitter pit flares in Rey's stomach. "And every time, when you came back, it was like a miracle." The pure admiration in his face melts into hopelessness. "And I just don't understand…I may not understand it. But you still need to tell me. So that I don't kill him."

She can explain this. If she's patient, and starts slowly, she'll make him understand.

She has them sit down and begins right where she and Luke began talking about Ben's…past; his link to Snoke since childhood, a shadow that could have easily harnessed Rey had Snoke known she existed; she explains the fear she sees herself in Ben, and in the need to believe that a Jedi on the Dark path can find him or herself back into the Light.

"We love Finn like he is a brother," she adds, swallowing away shame in mentioning their mutual companion. "He's fighting to free the other Stormtroopers, isn't he? And Finn may not have, you know…I know it's war, but…what happens when this war is over? Are we really going to try and punish so many people? Execute them?"

Poe leans back into his seat, thrown. "Rey…that's a long way away."

"Still doesn't mean we shouldn't think about it. The Republic is all about democracy and fairness, right?"

"Kylo Ren isn't some common foot soldier following orders."

"He's been as conditioned as the Stormtroopers, if not more," Rey says to the clenched hands between her knees. "I've…I've seen inside his head. If you're worried about, y'know, pain he deserves to suffer – believe me, he's punishing himself. A lot."

"That won't be enough for the Republic. He'll need to stand trial."

For whatever reason, Poe doesn't elaborate. Rey is grateful for this, for she's reduced to a painful silence.

 _Monster_.

 _I know. I need him._

"Why does it have to be you?" Poe demands.

Rey's shoulders sag. "I'm the only Jedi left. Just…if you don't believe that…" _he's changed_. "That things are different, with him – believe in the Force."

Poe rests his head, and Rey feels so guilty for the way she's caused her friend so much pain. "I believe in _you_ more than the Force. I'm just frightened. I don't know how you've been able to trust him."

All she can do is shrug. She's done thinking of answers and playing advocate. She just wants to land and walk across grass and be under a sky she can breathe under.

If there's a way to make sense of the way Ben's burning black eyes turned to her, as he swore some kind of devotion to her instead of boasting some declaration of his power, it's not while she's confined on this ship.

If anything, she is, he had said, his new master. He won't leave her side. He won't betray her, or let her fail. _Because he's devoted to me_.

Sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

The invading Resistance vermin have insisted on access throughout the freighter. It's enough to make Niall and Korla protest loudly over their behavior while Terric clutches his borrowed blaster with reluctance. The man who speaks Huttese, Chiroh, is becoming more agitated. Some Resistance pup even tries to interrogate him in Basic.

"He speaks Huttese only," Ben offers blandly.

The twerp in uniform scowls at Ben. "Was I talking to you?"

Even on the ground and handcuffed, Ben still pins the man with an aristocratic glare. "Chiroh," he says to the Huttese speaker.

Chiroh locks eyes on Ben's swollen face. Ben jerks his head to Korla and speaks her name.

Chiroh invades Korla's space with rapid questions, probably asking why these people in uniform were on their freighter. Anything remotely Inner Rim would make anyone out here nervous, apparently.

The distraction placed, Ben manipulates the switch on the electronic handcuffs. His father had shown him when he was young how to get out of these; the switch was too miniscule for fingertips and fatal if using lock pick tools due to the electric current. The misdirection of the commotion caused by Korla and Chiroh's frayed nerves allow Ben to slip away.

He will _not_ be sitting around for this shit, thank you.

"Kark it! Solo, help me out here!" Niall's frustrated voice cuts in the air.

Ben hears the panicked clicks of the blasters before he has a chance to frown.

"Freeze these bastards, or send them to sleep. I've seen you do it before with your bloody mask. I've got to land this ship at the Furridans' place."

If only he _had_ his bloody mask now. Assuming as much of a bored expression as possible, Ben turns around and flicks his wrist. All the remaining Resistance grunts in the hanger are knocked to their feet. Just because he feels like it, he extends the same gesture to Terric.

Niall seems to understand this, as he sends Ben a simple shrug. "Right. Don't think I need to ask you to be on your best behavior when we reach my mates' house. I'm off to land the bloody thing."


	23. Chapter 23

The Call to the Light

Chapter 23

Welcha is a stationary planet with a constantly-orbiting, shimmering, ring-like wave of sunlight. The currents, nicknamed wraiths for their ghostlike and incinerating power, are so strong (according to Niall), that it takes an expert pilot familiar with the patterns of the sunpath to bypass it perfectly.

No one was in the cockpit by the time Niall and Ben reached it. Suspecting it's safer for Rey to stay with Poe, Ben struggles to not think of her, or the warm, conflicted feelings burning from her through the Force. He's itching to see her, to remain in her graces….not be stuck with the older man who's _touched_ her from years ago. He wonders distantly: did Niall, regardless of his recent relationship with Korla, size up Rey as much as he did a moment ago, flushed and soft from sleep?

From the corner of his eye, he watches the thief pilot the freighter with surprising ease. The unexpected effect behind Niall's presence (maybe it has something to do with the _Falcon_ in the cargo bay) creates something that stubbornly crawls into Ben's heart. Niall is the Han Solo who could have managed fatherhood better. He has no idea why he's concluded this, since it's widely assumed Niall never raised this daughter he's determined to rescue.

For the first time, he wonders with true curiosity what this daughter of his is like, if she at all shares the same childhood difficulties that scarred badly, carried clumsily through adulthood.

An otherwise undetectable current of unease from Niall rouses Ben of these thoughts. Niall is still a creepy bastard. Refusing to lose himself in sentimental thoughts of his dead (murdered) father, Ben decides to pry, to investigate.

"She told me, you know."

Niall doesn't have to guess. "What – about me and her, one soft summer night together?"

Fuck. Maybe he's just perceptive…

"What's she said about me?"

The Kylo Ren that Ben became is repulsed by the idea of being _baited_ like this. "That you were kind to her." Ben adds, "You don't look like you were kind to anything."

"And you look like no one's ever been kind to you." Niall retorts in that annoyingly observant tone, eyeing Ben's scar. Then he positively _throws_ Ben by saying, "Well, we didn't fuck, if that's what you wanna know."

Ben's overly large ears burn. It's NOT. It's definitely not, but Ben can't help the curiosity to know specifics.

"I'm cruel to those who fight me, but not to those I wanna fuck." Niall explains in a rare moment of self-justifying. "She was a slight little thing, starving, and I took pity on her and gave her a slap out of my tent. Then she came back and offered something the females of her sort get to, and…well, it was a pretty offering," he finished, shrugging.

Ben holds his displeasure back by staring through the window. He despises the way that Rey, that glorious Jedi, is spoken of like an old trinket.

Calmly, he pursues: "So why were you generous and took less than what was offered?"

"She tell you she had never heard of a kiss before?"

Ben blinks – or ties to, with his swollen eye. His heart seizes. The kiss.

"She didn't know it by name, even by the act."

And yet in the dream, over two weeks ago, her lips had pressed to his like she had to teach him what to do. He had shaken, tremors pooling from his heart to his feet where she drew them in, made stronger by his collapsing power.

He hadn't thought – no, he had driven that obscene image of their mouths and bodies pressed so tightly. Besides, that was just a dream. New, very real moments, innocent and fleeting as they were, had begun to bloom between them now: his large, awkward hand on her bloody shoulder. Her thin breath against his face, driving away the smell of blood. Her fiery eyes wishing he could just understand…

Rey's unnatural innocence is such a rare entity. Just like she had to admit her reading was rudimentary from the _Falcon's_ console. Has she been kissed, now? By Dameron?

Ben has never kissed anyone. He has never _wanted_ anyone…

"Also," Niall added, "I had a bout of mendicitis. Nasty bug in the loins. I was rangy as hell, but I didn't want to ruin her virgin evening."

Thank kriff for that. It's all a strange mixture of horror and satisfaction to hear these lecherous details. He doesn't feel so…inadequate now. Ben hasn't really associated himself with the word virgin, although he technically is one. He is celibate, having taken the oath of celibacy as a Jedi Padawan. The Knights of Ren were free to pursue whatever vices they desired, but Kylo Ren hadn't been their chosen one, their leader, just because he was a Skywalker. His new training, fused with Snoke's, had been based on removing all forms of distractions, so that only pain, pummeled into every pore, could charge him.

He now feels…immature in his desire for another person. He cannot hide it anymore.

The rest of the flight through the atmo is spent in silence. Rey will be anxious to escape into the fresh air, though he doubts he will get to catch up to her. Not with Dameron and his pets crawling around.

Sssssssssssssssssssssssssss

The ugly slave freighter sails over a field of rosy-gold Roanbush flowers. There's a long dirt pathway leading up to a sparsely forested area, surrounding a nearby lake where a factory and barracks facility are nearby.

Whatever's held Rey since the badly handled altercation between her Resistance allies and her current, criminal-reject friends, it continues to beat steadily. She and Dameron returned to their respected parties to attempt a show of understanding and cooperation…it seemed to work as long as Ben Solo the traitor remained out of sight.

She was so stupid. What were they even doing out here? They should have tried to maintain some kind of contact with Leia, Finn and the others in the General's small council. Rey should have realized how wrong it all looked travelling with "Kylo Ren". She should have at least expected to run into the Resistance, instead of imagining they were in their own little Outer Rim world.

If Poe forced her to return with him (Force….if he decided to pounce and grab Ben, too, to stand trial), she won't know how to refuse him. Either she followed him back into the fray, or turned away from the Resistance and brand herself a traitor of her own.

The freighter lurches. On one side of the hanger, the pocket of Resistance fighters stand a little straighter, holding their weapons more carefully. In a subconscious decision to protect the freed slave women and children, Chiroh, Terric and Korla stand between them and the frightening soldiers. Chiroh and Korla curiously glance at Rey again, like she'll betray them, too.

Even Terric glares at her like he's daring her to understand that she's no different than her: _Now you know what it feels like._

"Right boys! And girls," Niall's false confidence bounces through the whining freighter. They've disembarked with a thud a minute ago. The wiry man saunters over to the ramp as it docks. "Play nice with the other thieves and scumbags."

Ben's close, but Rey watches for the several dozen figures, feet firmly planted on the ground and armed with their own weaponry. Niall's already suggested these Roanbush hippies are a rough crew, for all the silliness the illegal stimulant's culture offers. They're a little cleaner than the shady figures who have passed through Niima Outpost, only looking to make a living with what's presented in front of them as opportunity. They're a trace better fed, too – which means they're probably a happier bunch and might not want to engage on a gunfight.

"Oh, knock it, fellas, will ya?" Niall's rough Coruscanti accent slips through. Instantly the tension shatters, and Rey's shoulders slump at the sound of muffled greetings. The white-bright sunlight bleaches the cold space. At once, Rey leaves behind everything inside the slave ship, eager to feel the earth again.

Most of these scruffy, long-haired growers wear a mixture of work overalls, sidebags and sweatbands. They are mostly tanned humanoids, their sweat smell familiar and inviting to Rey. These are men and women who work hard in the day, concentrating on nothing else until it's practically tattooed on their body. It's a healthy reminder to Rey of her former life on Jakku, which warms her to these new strangers.

"Niall, brother, what's with the humungous ship?"

"Yeah, I didn't thing you owed us _that_ much after losing so many card games."

"Wait - who the hell are all these people?"

One guy who actually looks attractive (literally only because he has an inviting, softer face than the others) must have noticed the way the Resistance folks are not ordinary migrants. They stand too straight, their weapons held too rigidly to their chests, not aimlessly holding them like limbs.

"What the fu – are they Resistance?!"

Blasters are drawn up from both parties. This is when Ben rushes down the ramp, his footsteps an avalanche against the metal.

He's at Rey's side. They both reach out to the Force, sending waves of calm as they immobilize everyone's weapons.

Rey speaks. "Wait! We're not here to hurt you, we promise."

One of the growers, an animal of a man with a russet hair and beard, glares at her. "Then drop your voodoo, witch."

"Shit, you guys," a teenager under mechanic's grease and a too-large vest murmurs. "They're Jedi."

The Nice Guy turns to Niall, and chuckles. "Wh-what kind of trouble are you in, Niall?"

"No one's in trouble," Poe corrects him as he parts through his buddies. "Your friend here piloted this ship because I asked him to. We don't know the coordinates, and we promise to keep it that way."

Nice guys smirks. "Came here for a little fun, did you?" he holds up two pinched fingers, like he's ready to smoke. "Or maybe a new strategy against the tightass First Order?"

"You and your soldier boys can go to hell," a portly woman in blue braids swears.

"We're on our way to rescue young men and women – "

"Oh, go kark yourself, you glorified pilot – " the greasy teenager whines.

" - Who have risked their lives for the freedom of this galaxy!" Poe's voice rises sharply above the others' protests. "We plan to take nothing from you, just a night's time to examine a plan of attack."

"What are you doing here with them, Niall?" asks the blue-haired woman.

Niall shrugs. "I picked up the Jedi girl by mistake and these – " he thinks a moment for the right word, " _fuckers_ had apparently lost her in the first place."

All eyes make their way to Rey, like trickling water.

The wary-eyed redhead spits out, "All Jedi are dead."

At her side Ben bristles. "Do we look dead to you?" he demands.

Rey shakes her head stubbornly at the threat-trading. The poor women and younglings are still inside and have no idea what they are doing here. "Look, forget the soldiers for a minute. They'll leave within a day, I swear it. Niall and I have been travelling together and we found some women and children. Slaves. They need a place to live, and not in this awful side of the galaxy. Are you people so careless about mothers and babies ripped apart, and starving to death, raped?" she asks impatiently when no one answered her before.

Nice Guy hunches his shoulders in reluctant deference. "We're not a refugee camp."

"You're _medical_ refugees. I thought the Furridans of Welcha preach against war and violence, no matter what?" Rey reminds them, incensed. "No one gives a shit about your stupid spice farm – "

Rey can feel the imperiousness in Ben as he strides forward with an exasperated sigh. Distantly, it reminds her of the very same sound through his old mask.

Everyone is still stuck in place, wavering a little bit under the effort of Rey and Ben's combined Force concentration. He plucks a skin bag from the red-bearded man and drinks from it. The moment he opens the top, a tangy, alcoholic scent floods Rey's nose.

Ben offers a mild nod of satisfaction at the taste. "I heard from your friend Niall that you Furridans know how to party. Tell me," he offers in a deceptively inviting voice that makes the fine hairs on Rey's neck tingle. "Have you ever seen a Jedi drunk before?"

Even with a black eye, swollen lip and blood caked inside of his ear, he still manages a cocksure smile with these now-amused drug-growers.

Leveling his gaze at Rey, he continues addressing the Furridan folk. "You've founded this Roanbush plantation long ago to know the kind of evil transgressions against livingkind in these outer regions. Niall has spoken of your everlasting kindness to strangers who need it. We are not the desperate ones in need of your home. We only seek to deliver them here, where they can profit from honest work with its own rewards, and be on our way."

If Rey were self-conscious, she would know not to appear impressed at his diplomatic skills. He'd make a fine diplomat like his mother, able to handle tense standoffs like these as his father Han Solo had.

To add extra reassurance, Ben surmises the Resistance fellas. "We'll hand you all of our weapons, including our lightsabers, until we leave."

The reaction of the surrounding Resistance fighters is like a rising tidal wave. Ben continues quickly. "There are supplies left behind on the freighter, if you want to take them. But we will leave by tomorrow, or sooner."

Ben's eyes slide over to Poe, haughty and a little victorious as the pilot displays his begrudging disapproval for handing over his weapons. Poe turns to Rey for a moment, as if he blames her for this surrender.

"C'mon, ease up, son," Niall tells him. "You'll get your toys back."

Ssssssssssssssssssssssssss

The Nice Guy's name is Sandar, and his red-haired, prickly mate is Orxan. They wasted no time scouring the inside of the freighter (the _Falcon_ is vehemently sworn as off-limits) for supplies. The female workers and family members had gently approached the rescued former slaves, beckoning them towards their modest barracks for places to sleep.

Rey wants to follow them. She sees one of the boys Ben had tended to, the very weak one who could barely sit up. When she turns to catch Ben's (unbruised) eye, he remains unflinching, as if he is masked and unreachable again.

Chiroh appears torn between following the people who share his own language and the woman who has promised to find his family. He approaches Rey with a withered look. " _What's going to happen to them?"_

Rey shrugs, not wanting to lie to the displaced man. " _They can hopefully stay here, and live among these free people. I don't think there is a safer place we can take them_."

" _And what about me, and my wife? My boy_?"

How people like Leia are able to – _try_ to – help everyone is beyond Rey's comprehension. But still, she knows desperation while keeping an even head. Always planning, always calculating to not lose face against the ever-changing odds.

Rey matches Chiroh's churning, worried gaze with her own placid one. " _We will find them. They are not forgotten. We just have to plan what we do next_."

Poor Chiroh. Rey wants to hug him if only to expel the nervous energy from his worn frame. But this is a married man (as he claims to be, let alone devoted to one woman).

" _When we find your family, what will you want to do?_ " she asks him instead. " _What do you think of this place? Will you want to stay here?_ "

Chiroh seems to know the point of her change of topic, and by the smile he gives to the ground, he is secretly appreciative of it. " _They seem nice enough. And very protective of their land. Though I do not wish to be…corrupt_ ," he explains, referring to the roughly translated word for "addicted" to the Roanbush spice.

Sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Whatever Niall had told Ben about the Furridans, he was right – these people were party animals. Parts of the factory tower are shut down, but the winding staircases along the sides of the building are alight with workers enjoying their hours off in the cool summery night. In the complex where most of the crowd gathers is a fountain that switches from pouring water to mead. The smell is so sickly sweet, permeating the air with combined mixtures of sweat and dry-processed Roanbush bricks that the evening dew does little to mask it.

Sandar, Orxan and the other Furridans look a little displeased to be missing the gaieties outside of their meeting room. But they're determined to keep an eye on their semi-unwelcome guests. Strangely, Ben stands away from Rey, who is between Rumley and Korla. She wonders if it's because Terric is sitting close by, and she can sense the slow burn against him coming from the other Jedi.

She wonders about even asking him through thought-speak if he's all right, but his bruised face reminds her how she failed to display any care for him. Instead she faces the table everyone is surrounding.

Niall, of course, is the only schmuck who's grabbed some fruit and a cup of mead at this impromptu meeting.

"Well, I'm surprised you Resistance chums haven't gone out recruiting any of our kids," Sandar quips. "Though nonetheless pleased."

"We're not that desperate," one of Poe's fighters retorts.

"This plan of yours is." Orxan's eyes are both feral and intelligent. "I count near twenty of ye. This prison of yours's got six thousand souls."

"We've got a Jedi on our side," someone who sounds very young and naïve pipes up.

Poe has just enough time to silence the young fighter with a threatening glare before Rey uncrosses her arms. "I…I never said I'd be going with you guys."

A stillness of disappointment settles among them. "Why's that?" someone finally asks.

Avoiding Poe's face, Rey begins to explain but Korla cuts her off. "Rey, Niall, Terric and I have been traveling together for a few days. We've been tracking down Niall's daughter, and this man's wife and son." She nods to Chiroh, who stands near Rey. "They've been kidnapped by slavers."

The people here must be well-experienced in the harsh world of the Outer Rim they occupy, as most grimly purse their lips or stare at the ground in sympathy. "That's…a bit of an impossible task," Sandar says. He casts a half-pitying, half-guarded look at Niall.

Niall's tone is flat. "They're special. One's a changeling and t'other two are maybe Force-sensitive. Only a small group of traffickers control the buying and selling of those people. We know where we're goin' now, if ye wanna come."

"Where's that?"

Feigning concentration as he skins his fruit, Niall responds, "Some place called the Asylum, on Lautori."

A cacophony of protests - "The eff? Lautori!"

"You guys are literally _two_ suicide missions!" 

"That's where Korla got rescued herself! You're an ass bringing her back there!"

Rumley holds out his hands to gather attention over the noise. "Wait, wait! Do any of you have experience with slavers? Their methods, their hideouts?"

A weathered, middle-aged man next to the blue-haired one rigidly stares Rumley down. "I lost my son to that place. You people are nuts going there."

"No one asked you, old man," Niall responded curtly.

Just as another spat can erupt, Poe steps forward and shouts, "All right, enough! Look, those of you who want to keep arguing about some missing teenagers, go right ahead. We've got much bigger problems. Yes, we plan to liberate Namorath's prison, and as many of our Resistance POWs as we can. They have a communication hub that controls all the security and their main transport systems. We plan to use their own ships to safely rescue the prisoners out of the system and back to our people."

That makes sense, Rey thinks. A fleet of ships would be too obvious to travel across the Outer Rim without garnering unwanted attention. It's also incredibly cocky, especially of Poe, to think this plan would work in any way.

He was, of course, assuming she would help with her Jedi skills.

One woman speaks up. "I have two nieces who joined you guys years ago. I'll help you guys out, if you need any."

Poe makes sure to address the woman. "Thank you, ma'am."

Sandar and Orxan exchange a look. "There's…something we've got that might be more useful to you guys than us. It was from a bad trade. It's tremor powder. It's from a botched manufactured drug that causes blood vessels to shrivel up."

One man with vertical facial tattoos and a tightly braided Mohawk speaks up. "I came here on an old gunner ship that needs a little action. Let me come with you and offer some air support."

"Can I come?" the mousy teenager from before asks. ("No!" everyone, even Resistance crew, shouts).

The one who questioned Rey not coming speaks again. "We appreciate your sacrifice, guys. But we need to let you know, we already signed up for this mission, and we're aware the low chances of survival, or success."

"So why go to Namorath in the first place?"

"Because they assumed I would be coming with them," Rey concludes.

The same guy must be Poe's second-in-command, turning to speak in Poe's ear. "You assured us the Jedi will be coming with us. We're screwed for sure if we go without her."

"Choice is entirely up to her," Niall argues nonchalantly, swirling the cup of mead in his hand.

Out of respect for being overheard, Poe lifts his rum-dark eyes to Rey. He won't force her to leave Niall and his search for his daughter, or Chiroh's family. But this is a type of mission that could seriously benefit from –

"A Jedi _will_ be joining you." Ben's voice cuts the awkward silence. He sounds much more confident than Rey did before. Under the surface, from the Force, Rey can sense his emotions. He's quaking just a little, despite his iron-tight control.


	24. Chapter 24

The Call to the Light

By TheOneAndOnlySlayer

Chapter 24

"I'll go with the Resistance. Rey is free to go with Niall and the others."

Rey's not sure if she really expected this to happen or not. The way Ben's put himself forward, no matter how surly and superior he has acted, to prove his loyalty (to the Resistance? To the Light? It can't just be _her_ )…it's all dislodged Rey's assumption that the two of them were safe in this world of theirs.

Now he is ready to leave it.

Her mouth opens, the sudden sensation of becoming untethered leaving her breathless, but nothing sensible comes out.

"Um," one of the Furridans, with tanned old skin and a skeletal face. " _Two_ Jedi?"

Poe inhales, preparing to argue, but Ben doesn't give him the chance. "The woman is my apprentice."

Now Rey shoots a worried look at Ben. _What are you doing?_ she asks him. Strangely, none of the Resistance crew who know Rey better even protest at this false information.

In the low lighting, Ben's height is only matched by the giant Orxan. His face is partially shadowed, making his bruised eye cavernous and his hair like the dark mane of some animal. He says nothing, thinks nothing, only seizes her with an expression that she knows better than to interpret.

The Furridan leader, Sandar, leans into the table heavily. "Look. How do we know your enemies will not track us here? We have two hundred people who have made honest lives here, not including these new refugees you've deposited."

Feeling the need to protest something, anything, Rey turns away from Ben. "That's not fair. If you don't have room for them, we can ask if they want to go somewhere else."

"No, no," Niall waves her comment irritably. "Sandar's just cornered. He'll take care of 'em."

"Then it seems like we've covered everything we need to address," Ben announces. "Now. The rest of you can get drunk if you wish. We're leaving tomorrow, aren't we?"

Poe glares at Ben. "You're not coming with us."

"Either I come with you and your mission succeeds, or none of you return to the Resistance alive," Ben retorts.

"Is that a threat?"

Ben outwardly scowls. " _When_ are you morons going to realize I am your _best_ chance of success? I will not waste my time swearing allegiance to you when there is a mission that needs to be completed."

"How. Do we. Know. You will not betray us?"

"Yeah, why don't we just leave you with these druggies and take the girl with us?"

" _She's done more than enough for you_!" Ben shouts with surprising vigor. He slams his fist on the table, which makes Rey jump. In another instant, Ben's voice has calmed. "She owes you nothing. Let me take her place in your service. Take my lightsaber and give it to me when you see fit."

Ignoring the panic that runs like a staccato in her chest, Rey stares at this man, incensed and impatient than she's seen him in a while. He's really serious. He's planning to leave her.

But something deep inside of her, a voice in a cave, holds her back. Instinct, or the Force, calms her blood and tells her this is meant to happen. The naked confusion of being separated from Ben Solo is still there, though.

Ben huffs, at a loss, and faces Rey again. Always the practical one, there is an idea brewing in her mind already. It's so unpracticed and risky – not to mention terribly invasive of someone's privacy. Luke had taught her while on their first mission outside Ach-to to conjoin with a non-Force-sensitive's mind from long distances away. If Poe wanted a guarantee that Ben could be "handled" while she went with Niall, she could conjoin with Poe. Poe must know by now that she and Ben…are close.

Like all mind tricks, this one makes her uncomfortable. Lifting objects and somersaulting through the air are easy compared to fiddling with someone's mind. If this is what Poe wants, however…

Sighing, Rey turns to the men who took her weapons. "Can you give us our lightsabers, please?"

Ben takes a cue from the solidness in Rey's voice. "Go and enjoy yourselves for the night. Your commander and Jedi champion need to speak in private."

The suggestion is more than enough to break this impromptu meeting. Only a few trail behind, namely Niall, who is sluggish from drink and his usual careless attitude.

Poe's second-in-command seemingly ignores Ben's invitation. "Kriff. One more word out of him and – "

"You will go outside and enjoy a few drinks for the next hour," Rey enunciates delicately with a withering glare at the man.

The pilot does as he's told wordlessly, while both Poe and Ben regard her with disbelief. They're both familiar with her reluctance with this type of ability.

"I forgot you know how to do that," Poe says in a small voice.

They're alone now. Rey darts her eyes over to Ben's, projecting the gist of what she's about to suggest to Poe. It's a split-second vision of Poe holding one-half of her own double-bladed 'saber, doing one of her signature moves against Ben, who parries an attack.

Blinking rapidly, Ben looks down at Rey, surprised.

"Right, Poe – I got a plan," Rey starts without preamble. "But you may not like it."

Sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Poe dislikes the plan so much that all conviction leaves him.

"Look, just – I can't think of this type of stuff now. I'm not going to have _you_ in my head from light-years away without any control. Just…" in one sideways look he begs Rey to have pity on him. "Just come with us, Rey,"

Rey stares at the ground in silence, so she doesn't quite notice how deadly quiet Ben has become.

Until he near-whispers, "You stubborn…blind coward."

The malice in Ben's tone has not been used against Poe since before he's boarded their freighter. It spurs a stand-off between them. "What did you just call me?" Poe whispers.

"Oh, for – " Rey starts.

"Coward – and a fool, too," Ben repeats contemptuously, voice rising in volume. He treads forward like a predator. "You worship the ground my family walks on, the all-powerful Force-users, and when your precious Jedi friend call on you for help, you _back out_ , out of suspicion?!"

"You have NO right to talk about your family!" Poe shouts, stepping forward aggressively with a dagger-sharp pointed finger. "You should have been _incinerated_ by those wraiths – "

It happens before Rey can stop it. Ben shoved Poe's body against the wall, the chairs slapped out of the way by his legs.

"Ben, knock it off!" Rey barks.

Ben is on autopilot. In his eyes are pure hate, so much like when she used to fight him as Kylo Ren. Teeth bared and lips curled apart, his hand is held out in a terrible, familiar manner like Snoke's.

"Who are you – to make such judgment calls?" the dark Jedi demands. "Poe Dameron, the hero. The champion of the Resistance who defeated Starkiller. Tell me, do you know exactly how many people were killed? By you? They weren't all bad people, you know. _I know_. How many. Died that day. I can still hear them all scream. Do you want to know what they all sound like, all at once?"

Rey's skin crawls at the sound of his threat. He's not intimidating as he used to be, all black garb and shadowy voice. He is shaken in his uncontrolled anger; a very human anger wanting someone to understand the blame they haven't been served.

Rey moves across the room, resting her hand on his arm. "Ben." He deserves to ask these questions to Poe, but Poe has already punished himself about the aftereffects Starkiller. No need to bring it back up again.

She tells him this while watching Poe, trying to say _it's fine, everything is fine._ "Ben, come on," she tells him quietly. "Let's go. Go for a walk."

Absentmindedly grabbing a medkit, Rey leads the way out of the meeting room and away from the crowd. "We'll be back in a bit," she says to Poe, trying to reassure his haunted face.

Behind her Ben shadows her. "Where are we going?"

"Away. Let's go to that lake, it's quieter."

With no effort, she folds them both away from anyone's attention, allowing them to slip unnoticed to the steel-glinted water's edge. Muffled crowd noises settle behind them as Rey sits on a bench. Ben's agitation has not run its course, so he remains…pacing.

Fiddling with the insides of the med kit seems a good distraction for her suddenly-nervous fingers. At the sensation of a breeze, Rey feels thankful for Korla, who suggested she change into some clothes before they landed on Welcha.

"Don't punish Poe for Starkiller," she speaks to the box at her lap.

Ben must have whirled around, the sand brushing under his feet. "What?"

Rey bites her tongue, regretting her words. She just wants to make _sense_. Is it really too much for her friends to stop fighting? "Just – "

"You're blocking me." The words come out forcibly flat, unfeeling, but Rey knows better.

"Oh – I didn't…" Unraveling her mind to him feels like stepping out of a too-tight dress. She can relax now, all at once like a flood of oxygen. At least until the tendrils of his consciousness brush hesitantly against her.

"You think too much." Oh, great. Now he's in _teacher_ mode. Rey could roll her eyes at the inopportune time.

"Come on, what is it you're trying to tell me?" he orders with unusual patience.

She closes the lid with a click. "I don't want my friends fighting, that's all," she announces with a huff. If she looks straight at the water, she'll be reminded of their time on Sher'hatha.

"I didn't think you'd be so…that you'd want to leave." _This. Me._ It is a painful sentiment she blames on the placid water, the calm that fails to cool her.

But Rey must backtrack this statement - he'll brand it as a weakness –

Soft footsteps grinding in the sand precede the weight shifting on the bench. He knows exactly what she tries to withhold.

He will be staring at her with that open, pained expression of his, so she stubbornly adds, "I can't protect you."

"I don't need protecting – " he whispers.

"Yes, you do," she tells him firmly. Hot firelight from the courtyard sears her back.

When Ben doesn't speak for a while, Rey turns back to him. Conflict is written deep under the bruises, the ones that she allowed to be put there. No one in the galaxy wants him except her. He's only safe with her.

Sensing this conviction, indignant that with all his power, she sees him as _vulnerable_ , Ben expels a shuddering breath and begins to pace with renewed agitation.

"I'm not being naïve or anything," Rey argues, "But I – you two matter to me very much."

"If only my uncle were here to counsel you now," Ben draws out.

"Now wait a minute. _You_ want to go with him to Namorath while I go with Niall. D'you _want_ him to continuously punch you in the face?"

Oh, heavens; the way he strides so impatiently with such little space along the sand is almost comical. He's such a tall, muscular bird under the low-hanging branches of these trees.

He can round on her any minute while she squats like a dwarf on this bench, though, so she rises to face him. "I'm just trying to make things easier for y – "

"I'm still a murderer, Rey – I've killed _children_ ," he tells her, voice cracking in its severity. "No matter how many people I… _save_ , it won't be enough!"

Taken aback by the painfully personal, truthful statement, Rey pauses. "So why volunteer to go to Namorath?"

His eyes glitter in the dark. She wants so badly to kiss each eyelid for the grief and desperation laced inside him. "Because I have to."

Rey sighs, her shoulders slumping like his. "I know." _I just want you_ is what she wants to say, but that's wrong. Really wrong. This isn't the time for that. "I'm not asking you to be a great hero, just to do the right thing when the choice is in front of you."

"A lifetime of rescuing children and liberating prisoners will never – "

"I know, I know. C'mon, sit down here. We'll be talking about this in circles if we don't take care of your face."

Ben remains resilient for a moment against her invitation, wanting to fight some more. But he surrenders and gracefully passes her to sit down.

Sitting opposite him (close enough to smell his own scent), she puts aside the kit and rubs her fingers together. She should heal him with the Force. The meditation…her fingers will surely shake if she has to apply bacta on his skin with her own fingertips.

As she raises her hands to inspect his bruise-patterned face, he grasps them gently with his own.

His mouth parts to speak, but nothing comes out. Rey finds she can trace their familiar shape even in the dark. A careful realization makes her compare his lips to his hands: large, gentle and yet severe. She feels so dry and barren next to him, seared by sun and sand, dirt under her fingernails, a permanent hunger that latches her organs until it blinds her against all other thoughts. She wishes it could just shut off, being so near him.

Intense starlight allows a sliver of his gaunt, tender face to her. "Perhaps you should conserve your strength in the Force," he suggests.

His hands are so large they envelope her own. They're cool and firm. Will his face feel the same?

"I could use the practice," she explains dumbly.

That seems good enough for him. He leans back just enough for her to reach. He will not disappear into smoke once she touches him, though she decides to make quick work of her healing anyways.

Determined to ease his unsettlement, she decides to tease him. "Your diplomatic skills from earlier today were…quite something. Leia would have been impressed."

"Her diplomatic skills usually involve chastisement and passive aggression," Ben says with a veiled smirk, careful not to move too much. Then he's quiet for a while. "I suppose another…less significant reason I need to go to Namorath is because it's an area I know well. You may have noticed: I don't do well among others when I'm not an expert in something."

He likes to boss people around. No, actually – he's just so used to doing it, that it's like second nature. Though so is following orders: first Luke and then Snoke. Has she been bossing him around, dismissing his suggestions too often while aboard the _Falcon_?

It can't be that. Plenty of things, including her knowledge and consorting with his grandfather's spirit, have uprooted him. Anyways, he _won't_ be giving orders on this mission to Namorath.

"You just don't speak Huttese, that's all," Rey tells him. "I can teach you some to get by. You may need it for when we get to Jakku."

"Jakku." He says the name with a regrettable sigh. "It seemed so long ago already that that was our destination."

Rey sniffs in amusement. "Are you…I still want to help Niall. Are you…okay with this? Splitting up, I mean?"

He shakes his head firmly. "No. We do need to stay together. Though…I cannot try to control you."

She doesn't smile at this intimate knowledge about her. Instead she deflects. "I see now why your nose is so big. Too many punches there."

He scoffs. "Family trait. It'll only get bigger."

She shakes her head, snorting in laughter.

Satisfied with how much she's repaired, she looks back. His eyes are fine now, skin alabaster and flawless. No thanks to her…

Her jaw tightens. Poe had whacked him so badly, and all she did was watch. She dreams of him in the night, wishes he would embrace her, and forgets he's killed hundreds. But that's not his game now anymore. But does it matter? Really?

This storm holds her hostage, and all Rey can do is bend her head, desperate to go deaf from all the whispers arguing inside.

"Hey – what's this? What's wrong?"

A lump forms in her throat, swelling so much suddenly it stings. Unable to look his in the eye again, she grips the hands that try to lift her chin. "I – I shouldn't have…I wish _he_ wasn't here. And that's a terrible thing to say…I just want this to be easy." Poe and his constant goodness. She can see now how deeply she's waded into the dark, to this other man.

Ben becomes hyper-aware of her emotions. She is sunken in guilt, something he never thought her capable of possessing before Sher'hatha. She had been such a force to be reckoned with, fiery and supreme in their fights. Determined. Unstoppable. Now this regret holds her down, chaining her to the earth. If he were with a less important figure, one he did not covet so badly, he would shake her for an answer. However, he reasons he knows pain like this, and waits.

He holds her hands, examining them: the power in each fingernail, her callused palms. He knows their skill with a sword, but he wonders the years they've suffered, pulling out parts in the sand.

"Rey…"

Out of all the things he could have expected, none counted her hands slipping from his and throwing themselves around his neck. Her head, hair tied back as usual, buries into his shoulder, like whatever shelter she can find under his skin is a place worthy of comfort.

The warmth from her chest and face make him realize he's been cold. Exhaling, he tries to control his emotions.

"I don't know why, just…" this woman of his takes a moment. "I just have a bad feeling. About all this. I don't want – "

"I won't fall," he promises. He swears it, realizing his heartbeat feels twice as strong and warm because hers rests against his own chest. "We'll come back. To you…"

He adds the last part, a sudden moment of sentiment he hadn't expected could be so strong from him.

But then – but THEN. She kisses him. She kisses the side of his head, on his hair above the ear. And she's still doing it. She's trailing small, puff-like presses of her lips against his head, his hair, his face, his forehead and eyebrow, down to his –

She is so young. And kind. Any more advances from her and she could lean into his lap. And she fits into him so well, and he wants her to press against him. Their combined heat…

Like her a moment ago, he bends his head away from her. Only her hands he's allowed to touch. He reaches behind his left shoulder for her other hand. No. He will keep her there; just a moment to organize his thoughts.

He puts one against his burning cheek. "Rey." Kissing it, softly, he memorizes the way she stills, that gasp emitting from her making him blink. Her golden eyes must be trained on him. "I still don't understand. Why…."

"I told you." Her voice is so small, almost invisible in the night, but it's enough to shake the galaxy, his fractured soul. "It's like the Force. It's just there…."

They haven't been fighting in the woods, on a brittle gray day. He's not riddled with rage and he doesn't even know where his lightsaber is. This was the vision that showed them how this would happen. And yet he is undone, now, with this woman, this small sun craving him, making him alight all over again.

If he does not kiss her now, he deserves to die stupidly tomorrow.

But he has no idea _how_. Perhaps, neither does she. So when he leans back into her, nuzzling the slope between her nose and cheek, it is just as sweet. They're both so tentative, two shy virgins, like monks, just barely brushing against each other and sighing in sweetest comfort. She's too absorbed in the sensation of their faces against each other, of their hands touching, just feeling each other through the Force that they don't even kiss.

Not until they realize they will be apart in a few hours.

Sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

It happens so fast, that Rey suddenly feels claustrophobic at her airway being covered with his mouth – and his hands, his fingers have wrapped around the back of her neck like cool, soft ribbons.

Oh. Oh.

In another second she lifts her hands, too, to finally touch him. His hair is as soft – softer – than she could have imagined. Raw satin, thin and sleek as gossamer, in sheets that part luxuriously from her rough, nail-bitten fingers. Strands of it have fallen into his face, against her cheeks and nose until she can't see. "Oh."

Ben is as surprised and inexperienced in this raw moment as her, rigid with shyness before lurching into some attempt at romantic bravery. One of his big hands reaches down to her back and lifts her onto his lap, making Rey squeal as all breath leaves her frame.

 _Ohh. I like – this_ , she thinks, breathless even in her mind, as the man who holds her purrs in satisfaction.

"Rey! Solo!" Fuck!

DAMN HIM. Damn the good boy Poe Dameron and his mission. If Ben were any more of a dark beast once again, he would sweep Rey away with him into the blue-black sky. But she is quicker, stronger – always has been – and in a flurry of electric panic she half-wriggles, half-leaps out of his embrace.

 _What have I done?_

Breathing heavily, absorbed in shock at his actions, Ben feels he cannot walk. In her absence, exposed to the new chill of the summer air, Ben Solo feels ready to conquer and ready to burn, his Rey's lips and breath tattooed onto his skin.


	25. Chapter 25

The Call to the Light

By TheOneAndOnlySlayer

Chapter 25 complete

Gods almighty. Gods and stars alike.

It must be possible for a human's heart to burst out of their chest. It must be, for as Rey strides back to the main courtyard to the meeting room with Poe, music and aimless celebratory shouts alike blaring around her, her heart blows up like a star with each pounding beat.

He's kissed her. He…Ben...

… _. "I cannot give you what you want."…. "The only one I believe in is you."…._

" _That's…that's the most that anyone could ever give me."_

… _."We can't."_

She could choke on this traitorous heart, the organ rising through her esophagus like lava in a volcano, and all she can do is keep a straight face next to her friend.

"I'm doing this because I trust you, okay? Finn – stupid, trustworthy Finn – would do the same thing, and…"

Ignoring Poe, Rey greedily stores away the sensation of Ben's – _Ben's mouth_ – on her own, the faint wetness that still remains on her lips. It was so short and sudden. She feels slathered with him nonetheless.

 _Poe must_ not _suspect a thing_ , Rey demands herself as she instructs her near-brother to meditate. This is really not the fucking time to think about that. But oh, Gods, oh Force –

 _Stop it stop it it's not a big deal just forget about it for one kriffing HOUR –_

Sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

It is less difficult than she expected, joining herself and Poe into a pool of calm connection, like a liquid woven network that will not snap apart by distance.

Despite Poe's protests, he is surprisingly open to Rey. He has allowed her to "check in" with him and Finn during their missions and weeks of separation months before. He knows that it feels less physical than a headache, a comforting pressure. They both know what restrains Poe is how Kylo Ren – the same shape of a man hidden outside – violated his mind a year ago for information.

The two meditate together until Rey feels ready to step away. She's instructed Poe that, as she controls his movement, he will be equally aware of it. Eager nervousness bubbles under his skin when he first feels Rey gently "pull" at him to stand up.

He's held Rey's lightsaber before, even used it. She holds one half, ignited already while she suggests Poe do the same thing. It's like she's helping him move under water, deceptively easy and free.

At first they move like twins, doing simple forms with the lightsabers and becoming increasingly fast and complex. Sweat beads against Poe's face and arms. He stays the anxiety for moments longer until he notices Rey doesn't move with him.

He continues the forms on his own, with Rey still as a statue, watching, deciding, as if there is an invisible foe against Poe.

"He's…bigger," Poe finally croaks. It's strange that he's allowed to talk through this.

Rey remains cross-legged and staring at nothing in particular. "He has his own weaknesses, believe me."

Poe should have sensed the killer in question coming from the shadows into the room. Like an annoyingly proper teacher, Ben Solo's hands are behind his back, inspecting their progress.

It is a polar opposite from when he practically stabbed Poe against the wall with this hateful eyes a moment ago.

Poe's grip on Rey's saber tightens instinctively when blue light slices out of Ben's hand. The former Knight of Ren fixes Poe with an emotionless, bruise-free stare. "Have him fight me, Rey."

Poe should have felt suspicious at that too-familiar tone, the way he said Rey's name, but the fear of getting sliced in two jolts him like a heartbeat. Poe rushes to calm it.

He is not in his own body, marveling in some small pocket of his own awareness as he – Rey, in the corner – moves them in an impossibly intricate dance against this human demon, Ben (Kylo)'s black hair whipping and alabaster arms flexing.

They do a series of simulations, each one elevating in difficulty. Random objects are aimed at Poe, and Rey must rapidly dive into Poe's mind to dodge them. Rey is instructed to leave the room as Ben (Kylo, _Kylo Ren_ ) attacks. Poe must call for Rey when he suspects _Ben_ is about to turn on him.

The lightsaber becomes more familiar in his grip. In the end, Poe concludes that the weapon itself is the better form of security for this mission, and not the miniscule nods of approval coming from this human-monster, dormant as he is in front of him.

"Right. This will be enough," the pilot says, more to himself than the former First Knight beside him. "I need to debrief my men. You and Rey should sit in just so she knows how we plan to go in."

Ben Solo is a wordless spirit next to him. He says nothing, determined to behave, glancing every now and then to where Rey remains hidden.

This man…he and Poe have played backyard games a few times as children before. He still stares stoically to the ground, sometimes unable to properly look someone in the eye. Coward.

"I don't need these extra lessons to know how to kill you," Poe adds, all fact.

The man who betrayed Snoke himself finally turns to Poe. He stretches his arms one more time. In equal calm, he approaches Poe and holds out his disarmed lightsaber hilt. When he reaches for Poe's hands, the pilot watches unexpectedly as Ben Solo wraps them around the hilt, pointed right against his chest.

Poe doesn't blink. The point where the laser comes out is aimed against Ben's heart. Poe's own fingers brush against the activation bar. It could be an accident…

"Nothing short of her permission would let that happen," Ben Solo tells him, not even confident, but just as toneless in fact as himself a moment ago.

Ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

It seems much easier to leave Poe and Ben alone to train. Quietly slipping away, Rey reasons that helping out with prepping the freighter and the new gunner ship will aid in this new mind-sharing exercise. The more "multi-tasking" she does while being able to slip into Poe's consciousness, the better.

Yes, she should be meditating some more, but she is a strong woman and needs a distraction from Lord Dark and Stormy right now. And his perfect mouth. Like, for the rest of the night.

Ben is right; Luke would not be happy at the way she's grown as a Jedi.

The gunner's a well-managed piece of crap, just like the _Falcon_ , and just as ready to cause some trouble. Seeing how Rumley is determined to help beyond feeding refugees, Rey shows him to pilot the _Falcon_ out of the freighter's hanger.

When the pale yellow glow of the wraiths arrive over the horizon, it feels too soon. Rey eyes the changing sky with trepidation. It doesn't matter what makes her more anxious – the fact that she's kissed her former enemy, or that he and her friend, who hates the air Ben Solo breathes, will be locked away in a ship together.

Rubbing the spot beneath her collarbone in deep thought seems to cause negative sensations. A map of wins and losses are just as complicated, between the slash where Kylo Ren tried to behead her and the flawless patch of skin where a newly revived Ben Solo the Jedi healed her.

All of a sudden, she wishes she were joining them to Namorath. If only the two of them could go together, two powerful Jedi linked, unstoppable and unbreakable. The Resistance would begin to believe…

It doesn't matter, Rey's practical side tells her. No matter what he does. It will never be enough.

As long as Poe can see. The rest of the galaxy can rot in their ignorance. Ben is hers.

Sssssssssssssssssssssss

 _She is mine._

Meditation is the only comfort, the only salve against these rising trepidations.

The dream of Jakku reigns within him again, but what pulls him more is the feel of her _arms_ around him. Thought it's happened before, not three weeks ago when Rey greatly mourned the loss of her friend, it felt as if it had _never_ happened, her ever touching him. His arms feel heavier from her weight.

It is a sweet sickness, punishing, plaguing him. He lets it wreak havoc on his feverish body.

The base, manlike instincts tell him to quit this game and run to her side. Lock her away and rest his head upon her, never leave her.

The sound of her neck snapping, all from a dream so long ago, but vivid enough to leave him cracked open, tell him there is no time for that.

He is convinced this is the right thing, the smart thing. Rey will stay mostly out of harm's way. She can navigate her way through the seedier sections of the Outer Rim than in a vast First Order region, where she is more hated than himself, the ultimate defector.

 _She cannot die. She cannot get hurt. This is the right thing to do_.

sssssssssssssssssssssssssss

By now the Furridans know about the militants around (some even drinking their booze). Some have angrily demanded the Resistance leave by throwing whatever held their mead, while some decent folk have reached out to the man with the gunner ship, among a few other volunteers who have combat experience.

Poe's just dismissed his men, who line up and into the freighter. Running a hand into his thick dark hair, he looks hesitant to leave Rey. It's understandable. Rey can't remember the last time they said goodbye the last time, and now they don't know when they will see each other again now.

It also could be that Ben Solo is standing very close to them, silent and watchful.

"Right. Okay. So, you'll check in with me every half hour?"

"Yep. You'll let me know when you reach the planet, and we'll take it from there. It'll be fine," she says automatically. Poe's still nervous. He handles complications well, normally, when he's navigating the skies in a battle. He's trying.

Far too aware of the darker man close by, Rey steps forward and grabs Poe in a tight, soothing hug. "You'll be all right, Poe," she breathes into his hair. "You're going to be fine. _Both of you_."

When she pulls back, she points to his nose for extra assurance. "Don't let him get killed. I still need him, understand?"

"Okay, okay," he tells her. He parts from her reluctantly, as if expecting that Ben Solo will snatch her away into the sky. Hands on his hips, staring at some point in the ground, he tells the man, "make it quick."

Only then does Rey risk locking eyes with the older Jedi. Determined to not show his feelings in front of everyone, he remains out of her reach.

She holds her breath. People are moving around and carrying things and talking, but the only universe that matters is between her and him.

They are being separated for the first time since Ben carried her away from Snoke.

Ben is going on a mission with impossible odds where he could very much die.

Rey will go into a snake pit of vice and crime; perhaps less dangerous than liberating a prison, but only by a deceptive fraction.

The Force is at a standstill between the fates they both walk down. There is a faint strain, like thin cloth being held apart too tightly.

Ben uses his diplomatic voice to say "I'll be back soon." And then he turns, away; to the freighter.

 _Get him back_ , Rey tells herself, finally summoning the courage to reach for him herself.

Her arm holds the crook of his elbow. "Please, for the love of Kriff, don't do anything stupid."

It's the same parting words she and Finn give each other, borrowed from Poe's squadron of daredevil pilots. There's really nothing else she feels qualified to express right now.

Except for kissing him again. That was really nice.

Ben regards the hand on his arm like it is a puzzle, venturing his gaze further up to her very worried, forcibly calm face.

She instead opens her mouth and begins to ramble nonsense. Staring at some part of his broad chest aligns her focus so she doesn't slur like a drunk. "Keep an eye out for Poe, okay? He tends to jump into anything without caring about watching his back. And, the freighter's a little weak on the forward aft thrusters, so you need to give it a few minutes before jumping into hyperspace – "

And suddenly her mouth is covered by his. He is unable to let her continue like she had not kissed him the night before, so he had stepped forward and gathered her face to his. The ambush is so sudden that Rey's neck strains. Her feet hasten to rest on her tiptoes so she won't completely crash into his chest.

Her stomach and other organs shiver in the embrace. Rey's not sure how she's still breathing, or even if she is, with that soft-as-hell mouth cushioning hers.

The man-tower that is Ben Solo shudders as well. If it's possible, he's swayed a little drunkenly into her. He has no idea what he's doing, which thrills her.

This is what has haunted her for months. Her hands tighten around his biceps. _He wants this, he really wants this…_

"Oy! Sweet birds!" Niall shouts from nearby.

The soft pop of their parting lips echoes between them. Ben glares at the dirty thief. "That's my cue, then."

He sets her back and peels himself away, making sure she doesn't fall. Her pride recovers at the sight of his very flushed, blinking face.

Inhaling the smoky scent that is his, she memorizes the way his lips move: "I _will_ come back. I am with you, no matter what happens."

The words almost don't reach her until Ben is halfway up the ramp to the freighter. He doesn't look back. Poe watches her with a deflated, grim expression.

To satisfy him, she holds out the half of her lightsaber and gives it a little wave. She has no idea what she's trying to tell him, but Poe gets the message. The ramp goes up, and she watches the freighter go up. The dust kicks and the engines roar, but she remains. This may be the last she sees of Ben. If she must say goodbye somehow…

Was kissing him the right thing, or just a lapse in judgment?

No. He had responded. He had pulled at her, sighed shakily like he wanted to drown with her.

She will kiss him again. He will kiss her again. He _will_ come back.

 _Please don't die. Please._


	26. Chapter 26

The Call to the Light

Chapter 26 Complete

By TheOneAndOnlySlayer

Ignoring the emptiness settling in her bones, Rey boards the _Falcon_ and goes straight to the main cabin. Niall is at the controls for the first few hours. At the round sofa, Terric cleans a blaster he's been given while Rumley paces lazily with a datapad.

Terric seems less on edge now that Ben's gone; clearly his "betrayal" (or just plain whistle-blowing) has paid off. Whatever surprises Lautori has for their little team, however, Rey cannot afford any prejudices against him. She won't ask why the part-Zabrak has it out for Ben, but she will make him feel she can be trusted. And anyways…Terric really hasn't done anything wrong. He's acted the same way she, or Finn or Poe would.

She hasn't been able to…befriend him properly. Not since he spilled his drink over her in that dive bar and she chatted with him in a Basic accent.

"You plannin' on using that thing on Lautori?" she asks him.

Terric's plum-colored eyes flick in her direction. "Not much of a seasoned fighter like you or Niall, but I know which end to point it."

Lips curling into a smile, Rey moves to the center of the room. She levitates the blaster out of Terric's hands and into her own. Practicing combat always seems to help prepare her for a new fight. "Try and take it from me, then. Rumley, you watch."

Sssssssssssssssssssssssss

The cool ventilated air has reduced all trace of the furious blush running through Ben's skin. Traces of rose-soft lips that had been against his own whisper through him, like a shiver.

Ignoring the urge to touch his own lips in the middle of a Resistance-owned ship is difficult, when all he wants to do is meditate on that sensation – kissing her. On his own. Touching the base of her neck while his thumb ran along her cheek. She was so open to him, so trusting. She has been before, in ways he is a bastard for not keeping count, but this…

He clenches and unclenches his jaw. Rey is away now, on some task she can clearly handle on her own. He knows a tremor of unease will bubble to the surface, but considering the web of possible losses the two could encounter on this particular mission, directly walking into a First Order fortification, Ben is confident: this is the right choice.

If only he doesn't feel so…bereft.

Jedi…he struggles to remember the lectures of his uncle. Jedi do not strengthen attachments. Rey certainly doesn't believe in this part of the Jedi Code, clearly confident in her own fashioned creed. While Ben is sure no one would expect him to hold fast to _all_ the Jedi ways in the Light, the laws and expectations - serenity, detachment, emotional isolation, they are all he's known, to be a Jedi.

Shaking these doubts away, he turns, coat snapping in his resolution. Aboard the freighter, he does what he does best when surrounded by those who despise him. He feeds on their detestation like a positive force until he feels bolstered by the energy. Only when he strides through the halls does it become slightly claustrophobic. Whispers of their trepidation and unsettlement pull at his ears.

He doesn't glare back at them. He's on his way to the cockpit when Poe Dameron and his Mohawk-braided second-in-command emerge from one of the hallways.

"I thought you were piloting."

Poe doesn't seem to want to look Ben in the eye, either. "Got too many things to do. We're waiting for our reinforcements before we set out for Namorath."

The freighter has two main cannons and a powerful tractor beam, but otherwise little else for artillery. The gunner ship accompanying them practically limps behind. The only agile and deadly transport is the cruiser the Resistance volunteers came in. Ben Solo is personally relieved to hear the word _reinforcements_ , but can't imagine the Resistance has much left on this "extra" mission.

The second-in-command's nose wrinkles. "What's that smell?"

Ben notices they are near the door he had to carve through with his lightsaber. "The women and children we rescued were kept in there for weeks."

"And you care for humanoid lives suddenly?" the Mohawk soldier sneers.

Poe answers Ben's quick look with a tilt to his comrade. "Zaropf here's from the Hosnian system."

Acting like he's better than them seems to conceal his…shame. "Who exactly are you trying to rescue? A valuable spy, or military leader? I know you're cocky, but not completely brainless."

Poe doesn't hesitate. "No, we're going to rescue all six thousand POWs."

Biting his tongue is the only thing that keeps Ben from calling them idiots. "I need a view screen. My access codes have most likely been erased, but whatever schematics you've got on the fortifications, I can show you the weakest parts of their weapons' trajectories."

Marching forward to the main lounge area, Ben explains his intel with the expectation that they are following him behind.

The view screen is already set up with a spy's schematics of the planet's surface detailing the detention center. Featured above the planet is a minefield. Each mine is the size of roughly ten _Millenium Falcons_ stretched across, carrying such an explosive power that it actually swallows up the space it's impacting.

Ben explains there is a way to bypass the minefield, but only between two or three mines. Disabling the entire field will have to be done on the planet, within the communication tower. Miles away from the tower is a defense hanger, where six hundred TIE fighters and Stormtrooper transport carriers lay waiting.

"Since its inception, the prison hasn't had any major break-ins, though the First Order had received reports of break-outs. All have been neutralized far too easily. This only means that they are comfortable in their fortifications," he explains at the way the men frowned when he said "neutralized."

He continues: "I suppose you're right; the guards won't see an organized attack like this coming. Now, what kind of reinforcements are you talking about? How many ships? How many men? Are these X-wings or civilian cruisers with guns welded on top?"

If Poe hadn't been staring at a point on the ground, Ben would have noted the strange look on his face. "You don't have to worry about that for right now."

Ben looks up from the view screen already on display. Namorath flickers in green and blue before him, like a chessboard ready for him to lay waste to. "Why not?"

Poe should enjoy saying these words, but he can't help but be reminded of how badly this…figure just tore his mind apart. He is not scared, but he shouldn't have to reason that he isn't scared. "Because there's been a change of plans."

Ssssssssssssssssssssssssss

"You're going to have to change."

Korla comes in the main cabin with her boot heels clicking on the floor, carrying a small pile of clothes.

Rey looks up from where she had been coaching Rumley how to knock a small pistol out of Terric's hand.

"What, is my outfit not sexy enough?" she jokes flatly at the simple clothes Boshtar Webb had given her.

"You're not some country peasant girl, they'll tear you apart," Korla remarks. Her attitude is more cool than usual. Rey remembers something about Korla having worked at this Asylum place before. Well, worked seemed too loose a term; she hasn't acted happy to return there.

The Tholothian turns away while Rey trails behind to her own room. Korla spreads out three garments on her mattress. "I got these from some of the Furridan chicks. They'll mostly fit you."

Rey stares at the clothes with a displeased smirk. "Kriff on a stick. I need to shave first."

Korla sniggers. "Be quick about it. You wearing those shoes, or do you have anything else?"

A quick session in the 'fresher with a soapstone gives Rey more confidence to try on the outfits, including a jumpsuit with shorts that expose her midriff just a bit. It's comfortable to move in, even feels a little nice with her bare legs, but it leaves her feeling cold. And she feels the need to cross her legs every time she sits down.

If they weren't on a mission to locate Niall's daughter, Rey would enjoy this – their female dressing-up thing. Korla spoke with fluid confidence, like a river in a forest that was always whispering, always there. Rey found herself making more quips than she usually did, only to help Korla take her mind off of returning to the Asylum. Secretly, she wished she could witness the sweeter moments between the curvy, goddess-like Tholothian and Niall.

There's a pair of ankle boots she can comfortably fight in. Korla comments that a pair of knee-high stockings will look quite nice on her. The only problem is –

"My lightsaber. I can't cover it up – "

"You'll have to hand it to me, pet," Niall tells her, hesitantly eyeing her legs in appreciation. "Asylum searches everyone who goes in, and only certain staff are allowed weapons inside. They're…very thorough," he adds before Rey can suggest something. "Believe me, they'll look in _every_ orifice that an alien can possess."

Rey makes a face. "And you and Korla plan to go in from a staff entrance?"

Niall seems to have a problem talking between her and Korla, who stands over him expectantly. "Some of the bosses might recognize me," she explains. "You will go in, looking like a perfect dish with Rumley while he talks business."

Rey glances over to Rumley, whose whiskers twitch at the sound of his name. "You…want me to ask for the top traffic seller?"

Niall's blue eyes sharpen, suddenly all businesslike. "You're some spice trader looking to make it big, and Rey here is your bodyguard. Terric will be an extra pair of eyes and chat up the patrons."

"Why can't I be a bodyguard?" Terric asks.

"Because your reaction time's too slow, boy," Niall tells him.

Terric smiles lazily. Drawing out a pouch that reeks of fresh Roanbush, Niall tosses it to Rumley. "This stuff's ain't from Welcha, but it's an experimental growth. Untraceable, and very potent. You hand some of this to sample, and those chaps in the Asylum will be so stunned at its quality that they'll meet whatever demands you need to make."

"So Rumley, Terric and I go in from the inside, try and elicit them to show us some pleasure servants – maybe see if Lorra and Chiroh's wife Jirah is…there; _available_ ," Rey summarizes again, ignoring the pull on Niall's face. "Then you and Korla will try to break in from the back way and search for where the slaves are kept. What then?"

Niall turns to Korla, who begins. "So, there's several levels. The lower down you go, the more vice is available. The second level has mostly dancers in open areas. The third schedules private sessions in rooms. Fourth has cage fighting, sometimes…with exotic predators."

She swallows. "The fifth has mass auctions. Sometimes a black market for other illegal items."

Rey blinks. There's a collective desire to not react, not so much as gasp, yet in the buzzing silence they can all imagine how Korla knows this: was she sold on the fifth level, once, or did she witness it by accident?

Terri leans forward. "What exactly is the difference between the – workers on the second and third levels, and further down?"

"The pleasure servants are property of the Asylum. Sometimes the private rooms are rented out to owners who want to showcase some new talent, and offer a percentage to the club. Everything from the fourth floor up has a veil of entertainment, while the fifth floor is a pure commercial spot to attract high-bidding slavers."

Korla has her hands clasped together and keeps her golden-green eyes trained in front of her.

Something foul twists in Rey's gut. Snakes control this fortress of cruelty. Starkiller base suddenly feels more tame compared to this. For all her skills as a Jedi – she could maneuver her way through a crowd undetected, confuse employers with Jedi Mind Tricks and slip people into unconsciousness – she feels unprepared enough to worry.

And Ben is not here. He, at least, isn't the type of person to hesitate when it comes to penetrating a facility; doing whatever needs to be done.

Can she kill a simple bouncer, if he stood in the way of who they're looking for? Can she walk past a crowded cell full of teenagers, their sweat smelling of panic like a butcher's auction?

Breathing calmly through her nose, Rey takes out her other lightsaber. It gleams innocently in her hand, like the Light she is meant to follow. Luke would caution her to let the Force guide her – even if it says to walk away.

When she hands it to Niall, Rey already has a mantra prepared in her head. _You've been a scavenger longer than you've been a Jedi. Pick apart the things you need more and leave the rest._

Ssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

There hasn't been a live hailing frequency coming from outside Namorath for months. Sergeant Major Granway almost mistakes it for Mantine's gruff update on the "Resistance cruiser" he spotted not twenty minutes ago. Ab- _surd_. The old war grunt is finally buckling down with cabin fever. The poor crew in the defense hanger must be minutes away from knocking the Colonel out and blaming it on a stroke.

Granway is tired of this shit detention post and wishes desperately that this call will involve finally, _finally_ removing him to the front lines. If he doesn't get his chance to fire his weapon at a Resistance fighter this year, he is sure he never will for the rest of the war.

In the main communication tower, manned by no more than twenty First Order officers and technicians, the signal crackles to life.

"Comm tower, this is Stormtrooper LK-5213, squadron five-delta requesting permission to land. Please respond."

Immediately after the Stormtrooper's curt tone, a brazen, clumsy one comes in:

"Is – this thing – who am I talking to?"

Among the baffled, pale faces, the highest ranking officer of duty clears his throat. "This is Sergeant Major Granway, station gamma-three-zero, Namorath Detention Facility. To whom am I speaking?"

"Yeah," the cocky voice barks from the tinny receiver. "I've got a prisoner for you – Kylo Ren. How much do you want for him?"

Sssssssssssssssssssssssssss

In about ten minutes, Rey will carry Korla and Niall down while the Falcon slows to a nearby landing spot. Niall's voice is like stone as he stares at the ramp. "You ever been raped?"

The question jolts Rey like cold water slithering down her back. She glares uninvitingly at the changeling with a scoff her displeasure. "Have you?"

Blue eyes blink at the ceiling. "Well, you were a tad forceful when we - "

"Okay, _fine_. No. No, not - " she pauses. He would only ask this because...

"I _was_ snatched once," Rey explains. No big deal. Not for folks like them. "I woke up in a nomad village's tent and some fucko climbed on top of me, but I...nothing really happened. He left a knife in his belt, and I stuck it in him. I ran out of there. I'm not scared of this type of stuff."

This time, Korla joins in. She looks wrong, like a dancer, with the blasters strapped to each leg. "Why, because you've been in a war?"

"No, because I've been...violated in other ways." Memory draws up a light more blinding than the ones inside the ship, a mask, his long face, and being strapped in a chair…and pain and weakness unlike anything before. "The other way seems..." she won't dare say tolerable. Out of respect for Korla, if she's allowed to guess. The refugees they left on Welcha. Maybe even Lorra.

"I can handle this," she finishes.

Sssssssssssssssssssss

The gunner that powers down on the main landing pad is a rusty piece of junk. The First Order officers and platoon of Stormtroopers gathered there eye the blaster cannons spiked across the side hulls. As the ash storm whirls dust through the air and into the orange sky, itchy trigger fingers jerk at the sight of two grown males – one human and the other a bearded Twi'lek – dragging a sluggish but powerfully-built humanoid. His head is covered with a heavy cloth and a mechanical collar.

The Stormtrooper and First Order agent escorting the mercs quickly round over to them.

"Gee, thanks for helping us carry him out of here, boys," the Twi'lek grits out sarcastically.

"LK-5213," Sergeant Major Granway barks, frowning at the ragtag gentlemen. "Remove the hood."

Next to the Stormtrooper, the human merc's dark eyes flash. "We need to get inside first."

"Remove his hood or I will have you shot."

"I'm not kidding, man!" The human shouts over the wind. "He's drugged, but he's a pissed-off Jedi. The second I take that off him, he can have our spines ripped out before he blinks. Help me get him to some cell and we can talk shop!"

"Sir," the agent, a woman with cropped hair, cuts in. "He was carrying this. Knew how to use it pretty well, too."

The tell-tale lightsaber in the other male's hand manages to gleam in the bleak environment.

Granway notes the necessity in the dark-haired man's tone. The bound, bag-hooded male leans weakly against his captor's leg. The struggles are clumsy but rapid, like an animal. Lord Ren's – the former Lord Ren's – power has fueled stories of cold-blooded murder, and genocide inspired by so much as a funny look aimed his way. That's why he supposedly wears his mask, to dampen his wrath.

Forcing himself to calm at such a prize being handed to him, Granway nods and gives a swift gesture to have the threesome surrounded. The Stormtrooper falls in line while the agent fills him in on their forced "cooperation" with the mercenaries.

Mantine normally would demand constant vigilance amidst all this socialization, but the stubborn bastard can go kark himself.

Behind them – behind them all – a shadow slinks towards them, unrushed.

ssssssssssssssssssssssss

The _Falcon_ sweeps over the indigo city of Lautori, a moon that looks half-eaten. The surrounding architecture is like obsidian glass veined with pale blue shocks of lightning – material mined from the moon to absorb thermal energy form a nearby sun.

Terric is at the controls with Rumley as Rey, Korla and Niall stand on the open ramp. The wind from the turbines swirls fiercely around them, a temporary distraction to their biting anticipation.

Grabbing their hands, Rey shouts over the noise. "Ready. Jump!"

The landing on the roof of a nearby building is a mere tumble, thanks to the Force. Gathering it around their feet again, Rey brings them down to the alleyway. In the shadows beyond the houselights, they creep forward.

No one is outside by the loading bay door. No nearby ships…

Rey closes her eyes and searches through the walls. Several people walk past the halls…she must wait for the weakest mind…

 _There! Open the door_ , she reaches out… _you need a smoke break, just some quiet for two minutes_ …

It's a struggle. This particular mind resists like a flitting rodent, pacing back and forth. In another minute the door whines open.

Rey's fingertips rest on the small alien's temple. Like an assassin she darts through for directions… _he's been here for six months, he knows these hallways like the back of his hand_ –

"Down the hall, a yellow-painted door, code is 3-8-0-2-5," Rey mutters quickly. "Guard's a Ramro – "

"Got it," Niall cuts her off. "Get to Rumley."

Without a word she leaves them and circles the building. This place is so illegal that no security will spot the _Falcon_ over one of the buildings nearby. A tarp and the familiar booby traps have been set up, too.

When she spots Terric, bare-chested with an open vest, and Rumley in new silks and a gold earring, she sneaks through the crowd and joins the Bothan. Terric's youthful, gentle swagger can be sensed even as Rey acts like she has never seen the hybrid male before.

Resting her hand on Rumley's head, combing through his fur, she lets him know that their friends are safely inside.


	27. Chapter 27

The Call to the Light

Chapter 27

By TheOneAndOnlySlayer

Granway makes sure he glares at any of the guards posted along the halls as their faces brighten in curiosity. "Your authorization codes were quite outdated," he informs the Stormtrooper.

The sleek-haired, slim agent steps in. "That was my doing. I've been on assignment for months and I only resurfaced once…our _captive_ was safely detained."

"How long can he stay sedated?" he asks the woman. She is possibly attractive, certainly intriguing in her work.

"The drug sometimes doubles as anesthetic in surgeries, something I personally favor," she explains. "Though combined with the Force-dampener, I didn't exactly calculate what the effects would be."

Their party turns another corner. "I suppose no one will regret the error on your part."

Their footsteps quieten, and when Granway turns around the mercs have held back, screaming distrust. "Where are we going?" the older Twi'lek demands.

Puffing out his chest at the gruff voice, Granway replies cooly. "We're taking your captive to a holding cell for proper inspection."

The agent cuts in. "I'm afraid I must divert us to your main communications system. I need to send a confirmation report to General Hux himself."

Granway's eyes widen in disbelief. "You? You need to speak to Hux now?"

The agent surveys him with feminine patience. "It would be most inappropriate to keep the General waiting. Kylo Ren's capture was specifically designed by him. He wants to look on the traitor's face, and observe his humiliation at the earliest opportunity. I'll be sure to offer he be kept under your watch."

If only Granway and his flanking officers had noticed the sounds of slumping forms from where they had just come from. Or the determined, steel-firm whispering from a shadow in black.

It didn't matter; Granway repeats them anyway. "I won't keep the General waiting. Follow me, please."

Ssssssssssssssssss

Rey's been to loud places before, with tons of people pouring in inexplicably. The Resistance fighters sure knew how to celebrate victories, whether on the base or out in a local dive. This, though, is a whole other animal.

This is nothing like the place Poe, Snap and Jessika took her and Finn to, where Finn and Jessika began to have eyes for each other and Rey was shown how to dance by the white-haired entertainer.

It is too dark and too blinding at the same time. Slivers of brilliant hypno-rays slice through the air, making patrons' appearances jarred and indistinguishable. Curves of oddly-shaped bodies, enhanced in beauty and grotesque form seize her attention. There are dancers hanging from ropes, multiple bars and refreshment tables, backlit by cool glowing water tanks filled with…creatures moving inside them.

"Calamari," Rumley speaks delicately in her ear. His hand rests comfortably on her hip, where his fur tickles her bare skin. She doesn't mind him, not compared to the swarming buzzing of everyone's _minds_ : their demands and afterthoughts augmented by alcohol and the cloud of greedy pleasure.

 _Shut it out_ , she tells herself. The sponge in her head becomes a drain. She must concentrate among this madness.

They're already being led by a bouncer to a private lounge. Rumley is the son of a diplomat and brazen in his confidence. He knows how to get people to do what he wants.

Rey has no problem looking surly and cold as his bodyguard. It allows her to make the male bouncers uncomfortable and to size up her surroundings.

The gent who approached Rumley in a suit tries to placate him with refreshments, but the Bothan cuts through with smooth impatience: "Who do I talk to about getting girls to work for me?"

Situating herself snugly against Rumley's hip, Rey looks bored. There are two extra grunts posted at the door, which is odd.

The main gent sniggers awkwardly. "We're not exactly a livestock corral. What's the rush? You just got here."

Rumley adopts a patronizing sniff. "I'm a businessman and don't quite have the luxury of chatting and pretending this isn't a top-shelf black market. Believe me, you won't be put off by my impatience."

The suit ponders this. "What sort of girl you looking for?" His eyes trail just a bit to Rey.

"Someone who speaks Huttese and Basic. This one here," Rumley adds with a jerk of his head to Rey, "Isn't much of a talker. She could hardly handle a business transaction with her own parents."

"You're looking for a carrier? Not sure one of our girls could handle that kind of independence."

"I need someone who can appear and disappear in a room with skillful discretion. Someone who can slip into or out of any place and not get caught. Someone who would do anything for her employer. Naive enough, you know. But intelligent. If you…happen to have someone intelligent, even if they were stupid enough to get caught by slavers."

To illustrate his authority, Rumley presses Rey even closer, to the point that she's halfway on his lap.

The gent laughs. "What kind of stuff you carry?"

Ink-black eyes blink slowly. "It's Roanbush, originally. I'm an experimental botanist – "

"Oh, come on, man. We've got a couple hundred suckers like you selling Roanbush out on the streets. What are you, an Inner Rim wannabe – "

"I'm not here to sell to you. I'm looking to buy." Rumley's tone drops to an irritated timbre, making the space between their couch and the gent's hum. Holding the man's attention again, Rumley inspects his claws. "About fifty years ago, a bounty hunter named Jango Fett employed the services of a very successful hitwoman. Her skills were desired because she was..a changeling. Do you know what that is?"

The gent's casual ignorance disappears, like a drawn-away curtain. Rey senses the heightened alertness in him. "You must have a lot more respect for this establishment than it deserves."

Rumley takes out the Roanbush product Niall had given him. "Have a look at this and see how I'm not joking."

The gent takes a look at the tiny plant and holds it over a candle on the table. The little bush bursts like a firecracker, burning blue and sparking green spikes.

"Whoa! Shit, son!" The gent's swell of surprise feels like a good sign to Rey, who continues to look super unimpressed.

" _Where the hell's the liquor?"_ she says to herself in Huttese, then turns to her 'master'. "Drink," she enunciates almost rudely in Basic.

The gent snaps to one of the bouncers at the door to fix something. He still holds the blackened plant, thoughtful. "I gotta pass this on to my boss. This is some serious shit. You, uh, in the mood to chat with one of our business partners?"

Rumley makes a considerable pout, stroking his furry beard. "I suppose. I'm not here to keep promises."

"I know what you're talking about," the gent agrees, suddenly too friendly. "Well, hey. A product like this - we can't just let you pluck one of our best beauties and be on your way. We wanna do our best to attract you to keep comin' back, you know what I mean?"

"I have an idea," Rumley says calmly. "Your men over there: How good are they at their jobs?"

"Why d'you wanna know?"

"Because my dearest protector here is worth more than two of your grunts," Rey answers, stroking Rey's leg. "The snap of my fingers will be your death sentence. I would do it over a less expensive rug, however."

The gent matches Rumley's smirk with a heavy nod, recognizing the threat.

"I propose a trade-off. My bodyguard here can sense a threat a mile away, a second away. She's good at her job…better than theirs, and much more better-looking, wouldn't you say?" Rumley smirks.

After considering, the gent stands up. "Well. I've got an idea for a tryout. I'm not saying we got anything _like_ a changeling, but...let my guys have an idea of what your girl can do. I like what you're thinking: A pair of legs for a pair of legs."

It's like the Force is a jump-started mechanism inside of her. Either something is wrong or she is missing a very important sign. If it's possible for the nightclub to sense Rey's pounding heart, the music's blown-out thousand-and-one speakers mimics it. Rey tries not to show her displeasure or her worry. The other man is greasy and fat and far too sure of himself. She runs a finger along Rumley's scalp to discretely signal her acceptance.

 _Fine. As long as I give them a show where my clothes stay on._

Sssssssssssss

"Remove his hood."

The mercs exchange a hurried glance. Not even the Stormtrooper moves.

"Now," Granway demands.

The agent gives Granway an eerily guarded look while she approaches the traitor Kylo Ren. She removes the hood with a deft movement. At first he cannot make out the sliver of pale skin under the mess of black hair and Force-dampening collar. It takes a moment to put the image on the WANTED signs to life on this weakened form, but the thin, healed scar eventually seals confirmation.

He is equal parts disgrace and incredulity to Granway. Inhaling sharply, Granway collects himself. But then he is overcome with a primal instinct to –

 _Thump!_ Granway's boot crushes the traitor's collarbone. Ren collapses, not even putting up a fight.

"Incredible how far you have fallen." Granway's not sure what's possessed him, to act so dominant. It must be to feed the stares of his subordinates who watch in stunned silence.

"Don't worry. I'll leave your face alone so that General Hux can recognize you." If only Mantine were here to see Granway's triumph. The young Sergeant Major turns to the main console and punches in the orders for an open outside channel.

The sounds of things (people) falling to the ground are not even recognizable until it's too late. There is an electric fog in the air. Granway cannot even turn his head.

 _What's happening?_ he thinks.

Something far more dangerous than Granway could have ever comprehended had entered the room, quiet as a shadow. His personnel didn't even stand a chance. The real Kylo Ren's voice – under that signature voice modulator of his, yet even still damning – brushes like a ghost behind Granway's ear.

"Open a channel through the atmo."

"Y-you can't possibly – "

"Is this station worth your life?" the dark one demands. "Open a channel."

Ssssssss

Back at one of the glowing backlit bars, Terric eyes the young dancer, an albino with all-black eyes drinking in every word he speaks: he is a university dropout, a writer in search of his soul or some spoon-fed romantic kark that will soften up his newest interviewee.

He is an undercover journalist, after all. Sorting out clues from unsuspecting questions is his weapon of choice.

"So what brought a lovely star like you down from the heavens to a place like this?"

The albino alien's smile is too easy. "Why, how else can I dance for charming mortals like you?"

"I suppose if that's what it takes to rouse my spirits."

"You are unwell, sir? Depressed?"

"In mourning. I drown in confusion. A friend of mine - a close one, from an almost-intimate encounter..." Terric sighs, hating himself just a little for this stupid act. "She disappeared from a place kind of like this. She was young. And beautiful," he adds pointedly, leaning forward. "Kind of like you. She - I'm sorry."

As soon as he's able to squeeze out one tear, letting the vinegar sting trail down his cheek, he hides his face. She, the poor thing, leans in for the bait.

"Oh, you sad thing. You look for her?"

 _Play your cards right. Don't give away too much at once._

 _"_ She - here. I haven't bothered to show anyone in so long. You're such a nice girl. I can't possibly try to look for her," he tells the dancer, each word strung into a hopeless sigh. "For all I know, she could be so far away."

In the next few seconds, all Terric needs to know will be drawn on this woman's face. All he needs is a slight focus in the eyes, unblinking as they fix on the holo he holds up to her. Lorra, his sweetheart. If Terric thinks she knows something, he'll have the two of them slip away to somewhere "private" where Rey can interrogate her. Or Niall, if the effort is too taxing.

He doesn't even get a fake sniff in when she speaks again. Terric almost doesn't realize it. "Why, sir – she's here."

No. Wait. What?

"H-here, on this planet?" He stutters, genuine for the first time.

"No, sir. _Here_. In the club."

Sssssssssss

The five freedom fighters – Poe and the Twi'lek as the mercs, the "agent", the Stormtrooper and Zaropf disguised as Ben Solo – watch the former Ren Knight linger in his control over the smartass Granway.

Something has taken hold of Ben's mind. Deep inside, flashes of his previous vision – the face of the Mirialan, Dameron falling, and Rey's face, sweet and intimate – flash like rapid heartbeats, along with a seizure of cold dread that he cannot explain.

 _Something's wrong something's very very_ wrong _what is it -_

It's enough for Granway to turn and throw out an attack.

The agent is the first to move. Her blaster arm shoots out, a blue bolt cutting through the air. Ben is too distracted, too arrested to stop the bolt in mid-air. He cannot die. No one will die if he can help it today.

The bolt slices through his shoulder, flesh smoking.

Ben's growl of pain through clenched teeth is like a howl. His other arm still has a grip on Granway's neck and jaw. Incensed at his cost of nobility, he floods the younger man's consciousness until he becomes limp as a doll, cluttering to the ground.

"Well, shit," the Twi'lek grumbles in his country accent.

sssssssssssss

The bouncers took Rey down to the lower level, with Rumley and the gent not far behind. The insane music could still be heard thumping down below, only the sounds of roars and jeers, bloodthirsty and gleeful, drowning it.

She's shoved into a giant cage, where nearly a hundred spectators push each other to get a good look at her from above.

Overhead, where the gent has taken Rumley, she can hear them: "Don't worry, man, we'll see how she holds up. Then we'll take you downstairs."

So this is an audition of another kind. Fine. Rey can play their game.

If Rumley has to trade in Rey for a chance to find Lorra, Rey certainly has a higher chance of escape than anyone who's been captured before. She's tricked her way out of Starkiller's interior, and could have escaped the planet had Finn not found her. Really, she could have.

At the other side of the cage is a door that begins to draw open. The shouts swell just a bit, then –

Rey inhales. Something feral and erratic is on the other end of the doorway. The Force, hanging in the stale air and in Rey's veins, recoils at the sensations. She waits. Whatever she has to fight, Rey has the patience and the training of a Jedi, and Ben's cunning. This opponent will be another sand shark.

The growl precedes striped white and dark paws, tipped with very large onyx claws. A half-dozen eyes and an impossibly wide mouth Rey's ever seen on a feline emerge from the dark and into the arena.

A nexu.

ssssssssssssssss

Zaropf struggles to his feet as he yanks off the image distorter – the cause of Ben Solo's face – from his neck. "Should have used the tremor powder," he gasps out, glaring at the younger man who kicked him in the chest.

Swaying near one of the consoles, Ben staunches a haughty reply. Tremor powder could kill any of the guards, not to mention any of them with the lingering gas.

"Less messy this way." He's rendered thirty people unconscious, more than he's ever done in the span of a few minutes, and now he's half-burnt half-bleeding. The desire to rely on his old training, to strengthen himself through pain, blares inside him. "The commanding officer at that defense outpost won't fall for our tricks so easily, so we need to disable that minefield _now_."

Poe turns to the woman and the "Stormtrooper," a Vesperan alien removing his helmet. "Kelys, Volou – "

"On it, sir." Their "agent" slips past Ben without looking at him to where Granway lay on the floor.

"How long has that skiff been chasing around the defense outpost?" Poe asks Zaropf.

"Fifteen minutes. We still radio silence?"

"Commander!" Kelys calls out. "They're overriding the access codes to the mines."

Ben knew that would happen – Mantine is clearly the one in charge, not this poindexter officer unconscious at his feet. Mantine would realize by now that a single Resistance cruiser speeding around aimlessly was just a distraction.

He invades Kelys's space and takes over the console. There are a few codes that can still get through.

Behind him, his "comrades" blanch. "Solo, they'll know - !"

"They're not mine, they're General Hux's," he reassures them busily.

"Commander," the Vesperan, Volou, says. "The skimmer's comms are down."

"That's because they're dead," Ben interrupts. "Mantine will be on his way here in a matter of minutes."

Poe's dark eyes sharpen. "Then we need that minefield down now!"

Ben's about to Force push the Resistance commander back against one of the consoles when an incoming call chimes in. Mantine, the ever-vigilant Colonel and his heavily-armed defense hanger, is waiting on the other line.


	28. Chapter 28

The Call to the Light

By TheOneAndOnlySlayer

Chapter 28

 _Author's note: writing simultaneous battle scenes are really hard (!). I made changes to Chapter 27 so please check them out while you can._

Rey doesn't want to fight this creature. An insane conclusion, considering its mouth and front paws are rusted from the several colors of blood. This thing was designed to hunt, to kill. It would frighten any other innocent person. It would elicit defiant violence in any warrior. But Rey's seen enough of hardened, beaten-down souls. It's just such a…lovely creature.

The thrum of excitement, and fear, from more than just her Bothan friend, buzz above. Rey pays it no mind. The plan is quickly placed behind her, awestruck by the nexu's lean, quivering muscles and glazed, persistent focus. Listening to the Force, she makes herself _known_ to the animal.

Instead or baring her fists in a defensive position, she levels her eyes on the nexu's. Calmly walking over like the killer cat is a frightened-off pet.

Then she gets down on all fours.

The crowd quiets. The nexu pauses, huffing and tail flipping as a display of nervousness. Its smell, and the hardened way it carries itself, suggest it's older. There are a half-dozen teats picking out under warmer skin and whiter fur. This beast is a mother, or was.

Where are its babies?

 _Hello_ , Rey tries to say, or project in non-verbal sensations. Jedi can also influence the minds of non-humanoid beings, but a connection this open is not normal. Perhaps because they both know they're trapped here.

When Rey comes closer, watching the nexu for signs of indecision, she keeps her body low. She's seen felines interact in holovids before. The nexu lows deeply, a whine-like purr meant to project its confusion, its hunger. Rey is reminded…oh, has it really only been a year ago since her concave stomach dictated every move in her life?

 _I'm here, mum_ , she thinks, pleading for some interaction, offering some moment of kindness and hoping she won't reject it out of desperation.

The nexu allows two economic steps over to this bold stranger, sniffing the air. Then it leans cautiously in, eyes narrowing as it inspects Rey's small fingers. It then darts over to Rey's armpits, nose rapidly sucking in puffs of air.

Poor thing, Rey thinks. In this cruel world, this miniscule hole of an expansive hell, Rey leans in, melting when the starved, abused animal rubs her head against Rey's shoulder and neck.

Ssssssssssssssssss

"Can't you just wake the kid up?"

Gripping his torn shoulder, Ben silences the Twi'lek with a withering stare. Poe steps forward. "Put him through. Wait! Connect the transmission through to the entire prison complex. Every single space. As soon as I put my hands behind my back, announce an evacuation to - "

"Subterranean deck alpha," Ben supplies.

"Why do that?" says the frowning Vesperan.

"Because this Mantine's loyalty's about to be tested," Ben explains, tight with understanding as he marches over to one of the consoles. He inhales sharply through his nose and types rapidly through one of their databases. "I've got a roster of all the most decorated officers stationed in the prison."

Poe opens up the transmission. "Colonel Mantine."

Ben keeps out of sight of the holo for the moment. The last time he laid eyes on this round-faced, guard dog of a man was over five years ago, behind his mask and Knight of Ren countenance. The belligerent, jumpy old soldier regards the bare-faced man half his age with indignant shock.

His arm burns. It is a lowly distraction. Ben submits to the cloud of Jedi training from years ago. _There is no emotion, there is peace…_

There's only one other person in sight behind Mantine, a young woman who's similarly unable to keep her composure at Ben's appearance. There's just a slight twitch of hesitation in Mantine's face, pulling it towards the woman's position. "Resistance scum! Who are you and what happened to Granway?"

"What does it look like we're doing? We're here to liberate this prison," Poe announces. "In the name of the Resistance, stand down and we'll send over a cruiser to transport your men."

Hmm. Ben runs a facial scan of all personnel with the last name "Granway." He senses something – First Order personnel are almost usually stationed with relatives to bolster loyalty and dedication. Perhaps someone in that holo is related to Granway.

Realization dawns on Mantine's ghostlike image. "The Resistance cruiser."

"There'll be plenty more if you don't stand down."

"And why should I take your threat into consideration when I've already shot down your distraction?"

That's the invitation for Ben to activate his console's holoprojector. It's almost worth it to hear the aghast sound of his name coming from the stodgy Colonel.

"Kylo Ren!"

Somehow, despite how far he has gone in distancing himself from that name, the attachment that has symbolized his transition, hearing it with such spirit gives Ben Solo a rush of authority and vigor. The fresh injury makes him practically flare in appearance. "I was still Lord Ren when last we spoke. Tell me, is that still First Officer Danto Vereen, your weapons expert? Have him stand up and say hello."

"I had heard the stories. You stand…with these degenerates?"

"Colonel, if you do not relinquish control of the minefield, and if you attack this base, I will inform the oncoming X-wing fleet to obliterate your entire defense hanger," Poe reminds him flatly.

Mantine forgets the pilot. "You have forgotten your dedication to victory, traitor! Not a single living Resistance bastard will leave this planet alive!"

"And what about loyal First Order officers?" Kylo interjects cooly. "Don't their lives mean anything to you? Private First Class Schyto, Petty Officer Bilzah, Medical Officer Devinslau, Station Warden Juris - "

"Commander Dameron," the Volou, says quietly. "They're preparing to launch a missile to the - "

"I'm on it!" The Twi'lek is out the door, presumably to his prized gunner ship.

Ben squares his jaw at the Colonel. "There are 8,000 souls under this base. Colonel, if you care to save your own...you will stand down."

"You sicken me. You were the crown prince of this new empire. You betray the young soldiers and freedom fighters who have worshipped your image. You sink from godliness to the stench of criminals and fools!"

Ben's memory stirs _….You means the murderers...and thieves you call friends?_

It is surprising how...comfortable this position is, talking down a First Order belligerent; considering he is in garments worthy of a refugee, gripping onto the concept of peace like a blanket in his childhood bed.

Poe and Kelys have shared something behind Ben. Kelys goes to Ben's feet and hoists the unconscious Granway within reach of the holovid. "Solo, wake him up."

There's a pressure building in his head. The Force tingles around him, shifting out of his reach. Unable to ask why, Ben silently acquiesces to this small woman. Granway moans and lolls his head under Ben's hovering hand.

"Sergeant Mirana Granway. If you care for your brother's life, you will not allow the Colonel to shoot us down. This is not a mission to obliterate out enemies. This is a single offer of mercy that can change the war in your favor. If you want all of us to live, surrender n - !"

Mantine seized himself out of his stupor and swiftly ended the transmission.

"Mirana Granway?" says Volou.

"Sister." Kelys dropped Granway like a stone. "Let's hope they commit treason."

"Is that missile in the air? Where's the Twi'lek?" Poe demands quickly.

The Vesperan speaks into his communicator while Poe turns to Kelys. "What's the status on the prisoners?"

Kelys is rapidly scrolling through the holo-security footage. "I see a shit-ton of people crowded at the ramp."

Poe squares his shoulders to Ben. "What about the mines?"

The pressure becomes a buzzing. Something's wrong, and for a second Ben wants to grab Poe and demand he try and find Rey in his subconscious. That must be it – she's encountered danger…

"Disabled, but still online. Whatever reinforcements plan to rendezvous with the freighter, you better tell them to get through for air support."

Zaropf is at it, sending a message to the freighter.

Ben looks for the controls of the ramp. But in an instant he knows what's about to happen, only seconds away.

That missile!

He has enough time to rush to the window and watch its approach.

 _Stop it! Pull it down!_

Rey has done this with a TIE fighter, all while engaging the seat ejector for the pilot to safely escape. Ben might not have precious seconds to disable a missile, but he can force it down and away from its populated target.

"GET DOWN!" Ben shouts. It's too late. The windows shatter to pieces – but they don't blast inward. They blast out.

His head is going to tear in two, protecting everyone's lives. Just as Ben holds out his hand (his other one, attached to his pierced shoulder) to try and keep the others weighed down to the ground, he sees Poe, flying out of the main viewport and into the windstorm.

Damn it. Fuck _everything_. Rey will kill him if he dies.

Sssssssssssss

 _Stop it, you're acting like an idiot._

At first, Rey had held out her fingers for the nexu to inspect. Not even a minute later, and Rey's nose is buried in this creature's furry neck. She's purring, in her own wild, caged way, to the human. Rey hopes this display will save her from fighting the animal. She still has to –

Something dark and familiar is above.

It's like…like the current of water moving under as some sea-beast circles around, unseen. Rey is being watched, folded under the obvious spectators. It's almost as similar as when she and Kylo Ren…Ben…used to fight each other. When he used to watch her before making himself known, his usual tactic.

Like how the dark always waited for her.

She must not make it obvious. Calling to the Force, like a defensive desire to hide, Rey raises her eyes from the nexu's shoulder.

She calls to her friends wildly. _Niall, Rumley, Terric! He's here!_

That tanned, tattooed Zabrak is like a skull stacked among bloated, bruised faces, still and eerily free of expression. All of Rey's concentration goes blade-sharp at the sight of him. Luke Skywalker's second unfinished project, before his own nephew.

He has a slinky arm draped around a woman with a collar. Dark hair, sallow green skin, inky facial markings. Bruises.

Lorra. It's Lorra.

The nexu bristles under Rey's intensity. She retreats, teeth bared and hissing.

 _Calm. Use the Force. Get out of here._

To the changeling: _Niall, my lightsaber._

The Force draws in, always like water and wind under and around her. Always like the first retreating drain before a major tsunami. Rey counts her breathing right as she Force-pushes everyone above – drinks smashing, people crying out in surprise – against the wall.

It's the best opening as Niall ignites her lightsaber and carves out a hole. Summoning the air under her, Rey pushes herself up into a graceful arc through the caged arena.

There's no time to even look Niall's way as he tosses her lightsaber back to her, the metal slapping back into her palm, its rightful place as she sprints away, except – _good-bye, cat_ , she sends to the nexu, which sinks back into gray despair.

Now she is on the run. The Zabrak, Rastro, and Lorra, are nowhere to be seen, but Rey is as behind as the blink of an eye.

Sssssssssssss

Ben flies out of the window after Poe. He is too many meters away, gravity not in his favor as Poe falls backwards to the ground hundreds of feet below.

Through the dust and ash, Poe's expression of shock widens with every half-second. Not in his familiar environment of a cockpit, the poster-boy is truly afraid he'll die. Not even when he was strapped down in that torture chair aboard the _Finalizer_ did Poe feel this lightning-hot sensation of fear and oncoming death.

He can't even really concentrate on the black blur of clothing and hair, whipping from the wind. He doesn't even know that as he screams silently skyward, his eyes have met Ben Solo's, who dives through to try and catch him.

Ssssssssssssss

Rastro must have fired a blaster as Rey blindly races after the shots. One of the glowing tanks explodes, leaving a trail of disoriented Calamari sliding across wet floors.

"Terri!" Niall must have shouted from behind.

Rey races on. She has to catch Rastro – purpose pounding in each step. She flies over crowds. A siren has gone off, creating a crescendo to the chaos that has just erupted.

"Lorra!" In all this, the woman has not protested, has not fought against her horn-headed captor. Not even screamed help. It makes no sense!

Her heart seems to mimic this worry, creating a staccato deep inside that plucks at her veins and nerves. Rey knows what this is. It means the Force is pleading with her as loudly as it can to slow down and _think_.

They're at a door guarded by a rhino-like alien.

"LORRA!"

Lorra and Rastro vanish through it as the door clicks shut.

Rey runs faster like a battering ram, eyes on the guard and lifting herself into a front kick. The guard aims his blaster directly ahead, but Rey's saber easily deflects them, rearing like a sun-arc and planting a solid kick at the guard's head.

The door is no match for the lightsaber, either. Rey kicks through another lightsaber-carved hole, catching her breath.

There must be an escape route the Zabrak is following. She senses no hesitation from him, from the one being whose ghost presence along the alleyway Rey senses in front of her.

It's all so calm, planned.

 _Hang on - ?_

She skids to a halt. She's in the middle of an opening behind a maze of alleyways.

Something tingles, sharp and cold from the back. It's like…oh, now she remembers. When she crept downstairs into Maz's basement, not knowing where to go – like an invisible thread kept pulling her forward.

Something is very wrong, and Rey had been too eager, too excited to see it.

Behind her, the sound of an electro-rod igniting buzzes. It's like an animal in the night. Like a hunter.

Rey darts her head to the sound. A single sparking shard of light divides the misty night air.

"The little Jedi girl. Is Master Skywalker dead?"

Rastro's thin, raspy smoker's voice scratches weakly through the dark. That's the thing about him; he was so wiry, practically steel-wrought, and his eyes had an insane look about them in dark socket tattoos, but his damaged lungs make him sound barely patched together.

Pale green skin wavers behind the shadows, ghostlike. On Lorra's arms and cheeks, the bruises are more prominent. The way she looks so _resigned_ makes Rey want to reach out and grip Rastro's scrawny neck, and _squeeze_ -

Rey is fixed on the girl. "Lorra. You're safe. Just come with me, and we'll – "

The woman – not some college teen after all – reaches to her collar and flicks some switch, and all at once the green complexion, the glossy hair – all vanishes in place of striped red and white skin, and horns.

In place of what should have been Lorra, Niall's daughter, is some Togruta.

Blood drains from Rey's face, and then seems to flush right back in embarrassment. Luke would have chided her for this. Now she is separated from her friends.

What is she saying? She's a Jedi, for kriff's sake.

"Fine," Rey retorts coldly, drawing her lightsaber. "You want to do this here, you'll get it. I'll just question you after." All business now, Rey turns to the imposter with the image distorter. "You can leave him, now. Go far away from – "

Wrong _again_. The Togruta takes one look at Rastro and reaches for a weapon. It's not an electro-rod, though.

Rey shuffles back in surprise. The sound is too familiar, as familiar as the draw of Rey's own precious saber. This blade is _green_ , though. Is this woman a _Jedi_? She cannot be, Rey couldn't sense anything!

And that's when several more, like the joining of a pack of animals, go off, in a neat circle, from behind buildings and parting from shadows. Thin rods of green, blue and some red streak through like needles. All lightsabers.

Altogether there are six.

Rey simply gazes at them all in quiet shock. She's almost _impressed_. She has to be. She was such a fool, running into this trap.

The mysterious current under her was no phantom sensation. Now she has been submerged and can see the danger, all sharks circling her, ready to close in whenever they want. To render her to pieces.

Well, kark _that_.

The scavenger snorts and sinks into her Jedi training. Odds as uncomfortable as these are nothing she's not used to. Well, she's not going to make it _easy_ …

They won't move until she does. So she fakes a lunge to the first visored attacker, and the remaining eleven run at her. A single stomp to the ground creates a small quake in the ground. It's the only advantage Rey needs.


	29. Chapter 29

The Call to the Light

By TheOneAndOnlySlayer

Chapter 29

Ben's jumped off higher lengths than this comm tower before, but he wishes he had a visor against all this damn ash. The missile had hit hundreds of meters away from the ramp, fire and flak swirling about the hell-like surface.

Dameron's nerves go between screaming and falling into a calm his pilot training has conditioned him into. It's enough for a powerful Force-user to zone in on with his eyes closed.

 _I have to reach him._

His better arm outstretched, Ben allows one more surrender, no longer controlling the Force but letting it read him. _If this is what it all takes._ He feels himself cutting through the wind, inches away from Dameron's outstretched fingers.

The landing comes quicker than expected, both blinded by the smoke and heat from the explosion below. There's almost no safe space to land, but like a spacecraft skipping awkwardly along a runway, they manage it with scrapes and bruises.

The direct impact of that missile could have killed all the prisoners behind it, but even a severely close blast radius has caused it to severely dent.

Next to him, Dameron's laughing.

Ben's eyes turn to slits at this madness. He's bleeding, he has a massive headache enough to want his eyes closed and the man he just saved has lost his mind. "What's wrong with you?"

There's a stupid grin plastered across Dameron's face as he coughs up another laugh. "Your ears are _kriffing_ huge."

Ben will not blush. Kriff dammit, that's the last time he blatantly saves anyone's life. Shaking as he gets up, he collects himself and his frayed consciousness. He hasn't worked himself this much in a battle without having to use his lightsaber before since Snoke tried to break him in his early years of training.

The comm latched to Dameron's shoulder chirps to life. _"Poe! Solo, you guys alive!?"_

Poe manages to sit up. "We're alive."

" _Commander, the ramp's been damaged in the blast radius, we can't get it open."_

"How soon can your reinforcements get to us, planetside?" Ben demands, calculating the cracks to the edges in the massive doorway.

" _Five minutes, they say. Their ship's too big to get through the mine field, they're removing a few mines through tractor beams."_

Poe shoots to his feet and scans the blurry sky. "Has Mantine launched another missile?"

" _Negative."_

Poe turns to Ben. "Maybe he knows you'll just deflect it."

What else could be worse than firing missiles at their prison? Mantine said he'd rather see all prisoners dead than…

No. There's an earthquake-triggering mechanism strung through all the weaker cracks in the complex underground, a fail-safe in case the prison had to be collapsed should it fall into enemy hands. But that can't be accessed from the defense hanger, and anyways, Hux's borrowed override codes ensured Mantine can't get to them.

What's left?

It looks like there's nothing left but to pull apart the ramp. "Tell whatever ship that's waiting for us that as soon as they reach the atmo, to get within sight of the defense hanger and threaten them to stand down."

Ben can't see Poe's eyes sharpen in terror, but he senses it. "Solo, what is that?"

He looks skyward. It's not a ship, but it's large, round and dark enough to be mistaken for an asteroid. Through the thinning ash storm, the strange blot becomes larger, eclipsing the burnt-orange sky. As it enters the atmosphere, wind and dust trail behind it.

" _Commander - ! Something's broken through from the mine field, I can't get a frequency on it. It's not one of ours – "_

" _It's one of the mines!"_ Kelys's voice cries out in panic. _"It hasn't detonated, but it will on impact, right over us!"_

"Dammit, get one of our guys to blast it out of the way!" Dameron practically screams into his comm.

Ben's hair is plastered with sweat. His heart is ready to give out on him and explode inside his chest, and he wishes his useless arm could just rot off and regenerate anew. If he were to try this display of power – something a dozen more times as hazardous as levitating several dead-engined ships across Sher'hatha – he may pass out, or worse. The idea of causing a brain aneurism attempting such a Force-assisted feat is very real.

 _She'd do it._

Yes, she would. Wouldn't matter if she _could_. And so, he must try as well.

The thought of her even being here, next to him, giving him one of those half-smiles, not enough to give them away to Dameron, but enough to kiss the horizon, makes his heart swell in pleasure.

When he speaks the words in his own mind, opening his self – mental barriers opening like floodgates – _there is no emotion, there is_ _peace_ – in a way, now, he really believes it.

"Solo? What are you doing?"

Dameron doesn't shout, instead speaks in a deadened murmur as if he knows what Ben is attempting.

 _What does it look like I'm doing?_ he wants to retort. _I'm attempting to stop the mine from exploding on top of us._

Ssssssssssssssssss

 _This is bantha shit!_

Angry, grudging curses add extra muscle to every parry and attack against any one or two saber-carriers who try to engage her. Though they are rested and have the advantage of pure numbers, there is trepidation in their trust of such an elegant, dangerous weapon. Rey understands this – even when fighting Ben in the snow on Starkiller, she was so nervous she'd singe one of her fingers.

These people are not the Knights of Ren, who had hunted her and Luke down, greedy enough to overcome them both when their leader Kylo Ren had been should not be holding her behind.

"Getting tired, little pet?" Rastro teases somewhere nearby.

She is. There's no time to waste here – Niall and the others need her. Spinning away for a second, Rey collects herself to Force-push everyone against some hard surface, knock them out, but to no avail. In fact –

"Oh," she groans. Her body hurts, aches. What is this?

It's as if she's drugged. The other ghost inside her, dictating her, keeping her safe, singing to her through the air and the sky – the very Force itself...flickers away.

She's never been more scared in her life. "Wha - ?"

Oh, but then it changes, rapidly. The last remnants of strength push through, a riot of sensations in a matter of seconds before it gives out. Clouds part away from inside, where only she can see.

Realizations flood her. Like paintings in the rain, the colors drain into her very soul. All of it – this mission, Chiroh's family, the captured Force-sensitives…

Rey didn't expect this to happen. It wasn't part of a _plan_. It was a minor errand, she thought, compared to the fate of the galaxy against the First Order.

And yet her feet on these poorly cobbled roads, hot breath coming out cold in the Lautori night, her knees aching, the sudden concern of becoming separated from the others…dimming into a firm comprehension.

This was _meant_ to happen.

There's only one person she can tell now before she's taken.

Ssssssssssssssssssssssss

The mine descends ever closer, spilling from the distant heavens to the infernal surface. It could be coming hundreds of kilometers per hour, much like Han Solo's impromptu landings.

With his dark, incinerating eyes, Ben stares it down. His entire being is fused in concentration, the Force positively scorching through him. It soars and blasts through until he could choke on the pressure, until he could weep from the immense power, more power than he had ever dreamed of, than he ever could have desired as a vessel of the Dark Side.

He is alight with his conviction, though, stamped through with every blind heartbeat: _If she could do it…I can stop this. I can do this._

 _They will live._

"Solo, kriffdammit…this isn't gonna work – "

Every tendon in his neck is about to spring from under his skin, and yet he must tell Dameron to shut his big damn mouth. Groaning, gritting his teeth, his arms waver. The blood and burns in his shoulder wail in attention.

 _I will stop this mine. I will stop it…will stop…_

Something…it is so slight, like the first time he made a rock wobble in his first year of lessons. He feels it. The damned mine slows down, only by so slight a fraction it will hardly make his and Dameron's deaths come any slower.

His body is being torn, sinew by vein, until oxygen does nothing.

 _Now just push it away a few thousand feet….._

"Motherffff….fucker…" Dameron could be heard whispering under his breath.

Not that Ben can see; he's sure he just went blind a second ago.

It doesn't matter – the familiar whooshing sound of oncoming TIE fighters swirl overhead. They come so suddenly, Ben didn't even sense them (he was so blind to anything beyond the sinking mine and Dameron's stupid slack-jawed breathing).

As many as a dozen TIE fighters ascend madly like insects after a slovenly predator, shooting at the mine for it to detonate prematurely.

It's like a slap against Ben, disorienting him from the stupid immense feat. Behind him, Dameron shouts, crouching from the sounds: "Hell yes! Kelys, is that the defense hanger fighters?!"

Blinking madly, Ben searches the mottled skies. _Please, Force, where's the backup_ , he thinks.

A storm of durasteel flak and fire bursts above them. Ben will have to deflect the debris from reaching them, but that can wait a few seconds. The shadow of doom is gone. They can breathe again; they'll live.

" _They're…Commander, their second-in-command's just surrendered. That Mirana woman_ – "

"Are their weapons down?"

" _Aye, sir. The_ Rising Sun's _arrived and surrounded the hanger. The_ Boshtar's _on its way to transport our prisoners._ "

His breathing under control, Ben distantly hears the familiar name and eyes Dameron with a shocked, dubious expression. _Boshtar_ , the Nakorkian?

"Very good, fellas – send a transporter over as soon as you can, and we can help out with evacuation."

That's all Ben needs to hear.

By accident (because they still despise each other), they look to each other in an aimless intent to check for physical damage. Eye contact, especially in the face of victory (especially escaping death), makes them both unexpectedly shield themselves.

There's one thing Ben needs to ask. "You were so sure since the beginning that you could use the First Order's loyalty to their own against them."

Poe finds himself nodding despite his guarded, narrow expression. "You've done it to us enough times."

"Our…" Ben has to shake his head; he's seeing sunspots. "The First Order would never sacrifice such a tactical advantage to save a few precious officers. Even siblings."

Dameron's scoff is overdone. "You were the one who suggested Finn coordinate sub-channel messages to the Stormtroopers to turn them around. It's been working, by the way."

Finn. Ben almost forgot, though he's interested to hear his suggestion had been taken seriously. Hm. He wonders how Hux is taking that; his precious conditioning gone awry by one single outlier.

Shaking his head, the knight rests his hands on his knees. There's more chatter coming from the transmitter at Dameron's shoulder.

The wreckage burns around them, though it's swallowed away by the winds and ash. Ben will inspect his newfound abilities later, once –

"Ben."

Ben didn't even notice it at first. Dameron's never said his first name before. Much less like that. He turns back to the pilot, brows furrowed despite his stern attitude.

"Ben!"

Dameron's on the ground, dirt kicked around him. The desperation and direct informal tone makes Ben's jaw drop. It's _Rey_.

"Rey!" In a strange show of urgency, he's at Dameron's prone side. He cannot help what he does next – touching, albeit with shaking hesitance, Dameron's shadowy jaw and cupping the back of his head; as if there is a fragment of her appearance, the same shape of her eyes in this man's face.

"It's – I'm in a little trouble. I'm on Lautori, there's six people with lightsabers - !" Dameron, his voice soft and hurried, cries out in a gasp.

Ben grasps the head a little tighter, to search without a care inside of this borrowed mind. Rey is light-years away. Ben's emotions are wrought, undisciplined. If he scatters while in this mind-probe, from the connection from Dameron to Rey, it could cause brain-damage, he's sure of it.

But this woman would never call on him for help, always so stubborn, unless something were terribly, awfully wrong.

Without a care to this shell's well-being, he dives inside.

Sssssssssss

Rey once believed very little in visions and destiny, fate. Ever since that old lady Maz told her to stop thinking about her family who left her on Jakku, that they would never come find her. The fate of being the one Jedi to overthrow the First Order was not something she could believe in accomplishing.

All of it, unreal, unbelievable. Unwilling to accept it as part of a plan.

And yet her heart beats, her mind expands, her lungs make her sigh with a strange peace.

 _They're going to take you. And you are going to let that happen._

She… Rey _understands_. She sees it all, even in its jagged, watermarked shapes and images.

A kind of darkness, grand yet gentle as a wave, overwhelms Rey, almost rendering her inert in the middle of a slashing arc. It's Ben.

 _I'm here, I'm HERE what's happening?!_

His alarm at her call for help soothes her, even with whatever happens next.

"There's – there' more of them. More than just Lorra and Jirah," she whispers, mouth barely moving as she fights. "We didn't see this coming - !"

She moves into an attack, and this time she can sense _him_ holding the oncoming strike with her, like both of their arms hold her saber aloft.

He struggles to respond in her consciousness. Rey has to close her eyes from the effort.

 _What are you talking about? Where are you? What do they look like?_

"Ben…I have to let them take me. In order to find them – I can't explain it. I just know…I'll be all right."

Arms holding her in a phantom vice grip make her biceps numb even here.

 _Where are - ! Where are you going!?_ The panic in his voice is a new weakness he exposes to her. It's sweet as it bleeds into her. He cares about her. He loves her.

She doesn't feel worried, doesn't doubt that he'll come and find her (even if he has to tear the whole galaxy asunder).

She stands straight, armed with a cleansing breath. "I'm going w _ith them."_

Ssssss

"Rey. _Rey, no!_ Don't – stop and listen to me, who are they?"

Poe Dameron is a shell as the woman who rules him, whom he cannot let get away, speaks in calm, hushed directions.

"I have to wait until I'm deep inside..I have to find out the rest…there's so many of them, and they're stuck, they need us!"

There is nothing to say, nothing to tell her no, it doesn't matter who they are, whoever she's talking about…

 _Stop caring for so many others and come back to me, don't LEAVE me with these morons!_

It is absolutely repulsive, almost comical, the way he holds back the shell's face and strokes back his hair, pleading with these touches.

"Rey…" _don't leave me_ , he thinks. He'll quash the weak thought immediately, though he screams inside to say it.

"I'll be all right, I swear. You'll come find me. I know you..." the tenderness she projects into the man's voice makes Ben's guts clench. "Don't be scared. I trust you. I trust you – "

"Rey, RUN!" he screams, right in the other man's face. Even though she will not obey. The fruitlessness of it all, gone in an instant, the triumph of his willpower a minute ago a mere graveyard of a shot-down mine device.

Didn't he…he came here, to protect her, to keep her safe…! _Whyyyy_ …

When she leans Dameron's head forward, holds his cheek with his own larger, thick-knuckled hand, Ben feels already desolate, forsaken and alone that he accepts the ghostlike kiss without protest.

ssssssssssssssss

 _He's going to_ murder _you._

Rey could quite possibly be making a very huge, colossal mistake, but Luke had always said to trust the Force, even when you don't know what it's telling you.

It's telling her to turn off her lightsaber, surrender and let them kidnap her.

Luke wasn't sure how many Force-sensitives Rastro's been behind kidnapping, but she'll find out soon.

If they don't kill her.

 _They won't_ , she realizes. The sequence of events about to unfold in her mind are like pieces of a generator, or a junkyard speeder ready for her to re-assemble. She just knows this as truth.

If only it all didn't feel like tumbling through a black hole, or Force forbid, waiting on Jakku again.

Ssssssssssssssss


	30. Chapter 30

The Call to the Light

By TheOneAndOnlySlayer

Chapter 30

"WHAT THE FUCK!" Poe screams. The second he regained control of his own body, he found his own face – lips and all – found squished against someone else's. Only when he realized there was only one long-haired man his fingers were woven through, with a thin pale scar from brow to jaw, did Poe gawk and scream like a shot bird.

Revulsion pulls his handsome features into a gruesome mask. "What the – actual kriffing fuck – !"

"Be quiet!" Solo is still on the ground, knelt and bleary-eyed like a beaten man, while Poe prowls wildly in circles.

"What the fuck is up with you two!?" Amidst the wreckage of the mine, the sky roars and darkens again. Not that either of these men care, but a Star Destroyer has flooded the lower atmosphere with its silhouette. "Seriously, what the – "

But then Ben rises, a monster again, in a way that makes Poe immediately jump away. "Whoa! Don't – "

"Come here," Ben hisses, snatching the pilot's front jacket and shaking him until Poe cannot toss his head about. "I need you to close your eyes, I need you to find her. Go back and – no, don't shake your head, _listen to me!_ Go back. Go under," Ben demands, breath hot and threatening.

Poe didn't think he'd be this stunted with fear before. He can't even speak.

"She called out to you, she needed you to show us she was in danger. Now, what did you see? Six people, all carrying lightsabers."

The prompts are brittle, and all Poe can see is the soul-dark eyes shaken with worry.

The next shake makes Poe's head snap backward like a doll. "Come on, focus!"

"I didn't – I didn't see anything! It was like I was on autopilot."

Hesitation shifts too quickly in Solo's face. This is so different from the mask, a thing of nightmares and shadow. The visceral emotion in this murderer's face is too much and Poe wrestles away.

"I don't even know what I said! I just felt…"

Away from the madman, Poe remembers the sensation coming from her, calm yet afraid at the same time; a swirl of oil and water making his head sick. "I-I-I don't know, I think – I just felt what she felt – "

"She said they'll take her. Think, pilot!"

"I don't know, I couldn't see anything!"

Ben prowls away, looking skyward, diving into his deep pool of a mind, sinking to search for the one current that has held his attention so long: _Rey. Rey Rey where is Rey_.

He's always had a breath-thin, distant connection with Rey, unable to speak in words or emotions but just able to detect her presence from light-years away, like a shiver against his skin.

Now, nothing. Just…gone.

 _Dead!_ He fights so _hard_ not to think. _She is not dead, she is not - !_

Then he whirls around and reaches again for Poe. "You must be calm if you want to help save her."

Knowing instantly what this demon wants, Poe is afraid – when Kylo Ren did this last – but he is powerless; unable to protest with the faint promise that Solo might actually mean what he says this time.

"Just – relax, I won't hurt. Please…"

That…seems to do it. The weakness, the fretting whine in Solo's voice allows Poe to relent somehow. He feels himself go under, like a wave.

But then within a minute it _does_ hurt. Ben pushes too far, too hard. He rips through images and sensations like he used to, only more clumsy and intense.

Poe howls, and it's only when Ben cannot take the dead ends does he retreat.

The pilot slumps to the ground, breath labored. Groaning, Poe rolls over to his knees.

The radio at his shoulder crackles to life. " _Poe? Commander, the_ Boshtar _is ready to send in carriers. Will you confirm?"_

Poe can feel Rey's…presence, just like when they practiced, on Welcha…and the moment it was cut off, severed. Even he, a nobody, could sense it.

Kriff, what's happened to her?

" _Poe?!"_

His numb hands fumble at the button. "Yeah…have them land at our location. We'll force open the ramp."

Above him, the knight, teetering over a new madness, stares out to some point in the distance. Untethered, he wanders away.

"Solo. What does it mean? Solo!"

ssssssssssssssssssssssssss

It takes a long time before Niall realizes Rey's gone. Not just taken, but _off-world_. And even he's not sure of that, but Terric swears that' what his source said.

Almost a half hour's passed since Rey flew out of the club with her lightsaber. Aided by hyperspace, the girl could be fucking anywhere. Dead, even.

 _But she's a Jedi_ , his brusque, stubbornly practical self throws in. _She can take care of herself._

She'd be back by now. No, Niall's got a bad feeling about this.

And now nothing. He and Korla had searched through the…well, the pens where the caught slaves were corralled way downstairs. It had stunk, and the cells were thick with barely-dressed people of many shades of flesh, but no shape-shifters, Force-sensitives…

All a big bloody waste.

His fingers dance over the pocket where the holo of Lorra rests. All a stupid damned plan, to look for one girl, one drop in a vast bloody ocean…

His comm scratches for a second to reveal Terric's voice. He and a shaken Korla had gone to retrieve the _Falcon_ while he kept an eye on a very-recognized Rumley. He did act like Rey's owner, after all.

" _Boss, we got a message from that pilot, Dameron and the dark creep."_

 _Oh, great._

" _They know she…the psycho is saying he knows she's gone. They want us to stay put until he gets here, something about trying to track her."_

Dread and disbelief pulse through his tired form. "Is he serious? No fuckin' way we're sticking around 'ere!"

A full, heavy thirty seconds pass before Terric chirps back again. " _What do we do? Do we bail? They'll be looking for furball_."

Behind him, Rumley's whiskers twitch nervously. Niall eyes the Bothan and thinks of Korla, rigid and hating every second of being deep in those sweaty, stinking hallways of choked humanity. He can't keep her here another second.

"Rum," he murmurs to Rumley. "You go with the others. I'ma stay here and meet up with the other fellas."

"To do what?" he whispers impatiently. "And you can't stay here alone – "

"Your cover story's blown, mate. Half of this organization knows you came in with our Jedi girl, and they'll rip you apart just for association." Niall frowns. "Best place for you is with the Resistance, wherever they plan to rendezvous with us."

Sssssssssssssssssssss

Rey is barely conscious. She's on a ship, she can tell from the thin humming of the durasteel floor under her. Her hands are tied, from elbows to fingers. Her face throbs; she stretched it just a bit, and split flesh protests. A puddle of caked blood has stuck her cheek to the floor.

She's in a room, in a ship. Rey must calm herself, if her senses are all she has to keep her alive. To keep her going.

The first deep breath she takes, she thinks her ribs are all right, not broken. Everything hurts, though, like hell. They beat her pretty badly, the lightsaber-carrying pricks. Rastro must've stopped them. Of course, Rey didn't make it _look_ like she surrendered, so she equally gave the bastards all she got.

They all tired her out quickly. All it took was a slip, and like a crash they descended on her violently.

They kicked her in the stomach. Hundreds of feet pummeled her once she buckled to the ground. Someone shouted for them to stop, to drag her somewhere…but there was a blinding light and sound, a nearby ship over them, to collect her.

At this point, Rey can barely hold her head up. Not from the little beating, though. The Force…it's left her.

It's always felt like water around her, like wind. There is something blocking it all, a dam.

The next lash of concern is that her leg is bleeding. There's something under the flesh, like something is folded under. Of course, the surgery looks like a very bad job…

The Force is gone. Nothing is there. Her mind is dry. Barren.

So. A Force-dampener, like that creepy little lizard that immobilized Ben, only this one is permanent. _Well, that…that, just makes things a little complicated. Not a problem…_

Ignoring the choking sense of fear, Rey thinks of Lorra's face, of Jirah's from Chiroh's memories. And their boy, little Joah.

Niall, Korla, Terric and Rumley might not know she's been taken. How will they find out? Pity and frustration already well up. _Rey, you stupid girl, this might not have been the best approach…_

They don't give her a chance to speak. Just as she tries to get her knees under her, someone sticks a vibro-staff in her side, and she sees furious stars, deaf even to her scream.

Ssssssssssssssss

The next time she wakes up, her shoulders burn. Her arms are tied over her head, pulled just high enough so that her feet drag at the ground.

Breath hissing, Rey's head lolls about until her eyes feel mostly open. They are either planetside or on a much larger ship. The air is sweaty and putrid, so she can't tell if the staleness is due to a circulated air system.

"Wakey wakey," someone mutters.

If she had known – the Force could have found him – Rey would not have shuddered. _Kriffdammit. Calm yourself._

Rastro keeps himself in the shadow for a moment longer. Farther away, the silhouette of the Togruta's horns shows that she is standing guard.

Rastro stalks playfully over to her. "Where's Skywalker? Saint Skywalker and his crusading girl." He holds a metal pipe and trails it along her cheek. "Mm. You look rather nice in that outfit. Better than those stupid Jedi robes Old _Skywalker_ wanted to put you in, huh? More…freedom of movement. Woulda cost me a pretty credit – "

Rey's legs, though they feel like dead weight, aren't tied down. She raises them and kicks him wherever she can. He recoils, chortling in that annoying laugh of his while in pain.

Rastro straightens, twirls the metal pipe in his hand. "Bad girl - !"

Rey can't help it – she flinches. _He can hit me, just not in the head - !_

One, two, three strikes against her legs, her sides. She cries out through clenched teeth. They're so fast and clap hard on her and she can't stop them, can't swat him away like a fly -

"That's enough!"

Someone else, with a deeper, more authoritative voice calls to Rastro. The Zabrak trafficker halts in considerable silence, then snorts. The Togruta stands vigilant near the new figure hiding in the shadows. He's male and humanoid, but that's all Rey can tell.

"Your reputation precedes you, Jedi Rey." The voice…it's elegant and hollow, patient like Kylo Ren's mask used to be.

"Who…" she coughs. Her throat is bone dry. "Who are you?"

She wants to see him. What is he wearing? Does he have facial scars that mark him a man of vice? Is this a slaver? Rey didn't think Rastro answered to anyone.

Namely, she doesn't like the patient way he calls her _Jedi Rey_.

He speaks again. "Let's just say…I'm your keeper. In time, perhaps I'll be your new teacher."

On instinct, Rey snorts. It's as if it is a game - Teach the Jedi. Is she to be traded around from the dark to the Light and back again, like some commodity, a zoo animal without an owner?

But then a dark realization hits her. This man…the Knights of Ren are not _all_ dead. What if this guy…? Is this their vengeance for Rey and Luke destroying half a dozen of their kind? And taking Kylo Ren?

The man must have left. Rey spits, using all the phlegm and blood still lodged in her mouth. A tooth even feels dislodged, her gums swelling inside. There's no other act of defiance she can attempt now.

She feels useless. And genuinely worried, even – scared. _If he searches your mind…you're in trouble._


	31. Chapter 31

The Call to the Light

By TheOneAndOnlySlayer

Chapter 31

It's a grossly inopportune time for Poe and Ben's minds to be elsewhere, fraught with worry over Rey's disappearance. If that is exactly what's happened. Poe isn't even sure.

He can't think about this now because they have to evacuate six thousand people, not including captured First Order personnel, off the planet.

He casts another look skyward, where the recently re-salvaged Star Destroyer looms overhead; one of _their_ Star Destroyers, their ships in disguise that had been repaired and reconditioned by some Nakorkian with a kriff-ton of connections.

The _Boshtar_ honestly doesn't look intimidating to Poe. In the storm of the cast-off planet, the new ship seems to gleam with wicked potential. The Resistance hasn't been able to score such a massive ship that can stockpile a ton of resources: men, weapons, food, supplies, a medical facility that can actually care for its wounded in relative safety.

He grins. _Fuck you, First Order._

He really can't wait to get up there and see for himself how the _Boshtar_ and _Rising Sun_ can change the war. If only –

Poe's heart sinks at the premature thought. If Rey were here, he'd love to set her loose upon that giant fucker of a ship: muttering to herself about how shiny and new the hyperdrive looks and the rapidfire scanners not being attuned and can she just look underneath the switchboard please?

As more carrier ships dart past like howling birds, ready to shuttle drives of Resistance and First Order alike, Kelys and Volou buzz in his ear through the comm. One thing at a time. Get these guys off this awful planet first, get everyone organized, then message General Organa.

Ssssssss

It's definitely admirable. Ben Solo cannot help it. He's…in awe of their bold acquirement. Mildly, though. No way could the Resistance possibly have commandeered a Destroyer fully manned by the First Order. Let alone two. Two abandoned ships left to rot after being shot down along the Western Reaches. The underhanded, cheap alternative may be typical of the Resistance's strategies – unable to face the enemy head-on – but as he and the others disembark in the hanger, not gleaming but otherwise very intact, the flurry of movement is no different than since his days aboard the _Finalizer_.

There are even a few TIE fighters lined up in the hanger. They're more banged up, but perhaps in enough condition to fly.

Ben eyes them suddenly with newfound alertness. His job is done here – what is he _doing_ here? Rey needs him – the ENTIRE Resistance should be out looking for her, she's fought for them enough times –

Poe marches behind him, flanked by his crew. "Get all of the First Order personnel in the general assembly hall – except for Mantine. He and other outwardly aggressive officers are to be thrown directly into the brig with double security."

Like he is a misbehaving child, Ben is blocked from pursuing the TIE fighter by Poe. Short as he is, he glares evenly at the disgraceful knight. "We need to make a shipwide announcement." Something wars in his expression as he shifts from foot to foot, like he doesn't want to admit something. "Mantine may be a lost cause, but there may be…some people whom you still have influence over."

Ben blinks, incredulous. "Are you joking? I would have ended up in that prison myself – "

"Kriff, I _know_ ," Poe persists. "But these people. They're so brainwashed as it is…" he cuts himself off with a reluctant nod of apology to Ben. "There's eight hundred First Order suits, mostly kids. They…they don't deserve to just be rounded up in prison for the rest of the war."

Nervous energy makes Ben's legs quiver. They are just talking and Rey is gone. Doesn't he care?!

His expression is thunderous. "I helped you liberate that hellhole. Now you want me to be their warden?"

"I'm literally giving you some…thing, okay? Don't you care about that? General Organa – "

At once Ben scowls, his mother's name creating a visceral reaction. He swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing. "What about her? You think just mentioning her is going to curtail me?"

"Since Rey's not here, how else am I going to control you – "

And here is where Ben snaps. Again. All he does, though, is latch onto the front of his jacket – it suddenly becomes an affront to his vision, a reminder of his own father's shitty, scruffy-charming appearance and rude attitude.

The second he does that, the others around him swarm with action and calls for him to let go.

Poe simply glares back at him, the whites of his eyes daring him to throw him back against a wall.

Air hisses through Ben's nostrils. Constricted and unable to channel his anxiety – that's what he feels, not anger – he flexes his fingers over the leather. He is losing at this new game, always incapable of doing the right thing.

 _I trust you_ , she said. Did she have any idea…what that could mean to him? A monster?

 _Let him go._

This is not Rey's imagined voice. It is his own.

With a badly-patched smirk, disguising the fever lodged in his skull and throat, Ben shoves the pilot away. "I need to meditate."

He really needs a plan. Why go off on his own, not knowing where else to go but the scene where she was abducted, when there is a fleet ready to conduct a search for her?

With a last despondent look at the TIE fighter, he stalks off to some quiet space where he can…think.

Sssssssssssssssssssssss

There is a rattling buzz that seems to echo everywhere and into her skin. Slumped on the floor – a new one, slick with filth – Rey shivers, blinks tentatively.

New wounds compete with old ones that refuse to go away. They took out her hair-ties so her hair hangs limply in her face. Her shoes are gone, too.

A cacophony of sound competes for her clouded attention. The klaxon bell screams above her – them, she corrects herself, upon making out the rows of cells around her, and piles of people.

"Get 'em up, you sons of bitches!" Rastro demands as a row of guards stampede through. Rey doesn't need the Force to feel the harried, sleep-deprived atmosphere. Ghostlike faces with coal eyes look out mournfully, barely alert. Some shift their gazes to her, in between curiosity and possibly pity. Not that it seems like there's any to spare in a place like this.

Pushing herself upright, Rey recognizes the 'guards' as the saber-carrying bastards who surrounded her on Lautori. Two humans, a bare-chested Twi'lek male, a Nautoloid and two other long-eared, bearded aliens Rey cannot recognize.

Then the Togruta bitch comes out, a higher-ranking follower come to inspect their jail. She surveys the stinking space and points to random subjects. "That one. There," she comments.

The lackeys pull out a few chosen victims. They all vary – human and alien, men and women, young and old.

It's obvious. Rey eyes her bruised, (possibly) infected thigh. The implant that was clumsily put there, that wriggles inside her like an angry needle, tells her enough. She doesn't have to squint through the bars to see the others' legs if they have the same hindrance.

These people must be the Force-sensitives, the telepaths, the changelings: Rastro's collection, his specialized army of high-priced slaves. If there were any food in her belly (fuck, she can't remember the last thing she ate…), it'd turn violently.

Rey feels the full observation of having a single cell to herself. The extra space should be a relief, but it feels caustic.

Then the Togruta approaches her, glittery eyes sizing her up through the bars.

If it's possible to stand straighter, Rey tries it. Her eyes feel molten and slimy in this disgusting pit. She blinks slowly, squaring her shoulders: reminding the horned one that she is _just_ as predatory.

Togruta lady nods her head to the burly Twi'lek. The bars vanish – a force-field? – and the man barrels in.

Under normal circumstances Rey would sink low to the ground, calculate every angle and possibility of escape, and explode in action. Now, she's severely outnumbered. The Force will not be able to help her. She suspects this is a ship, but she doesn't know the layout.

Hoping she won't regret this, she lets them. Well, not "lets" them – she puts up enough of a fight, to keep them fooled. Just not enough for these guards to beat her up too much.

Although against six armed lackeys, there's no such thing as "too much."

Ssssssssssssssssssss

 _She said Rastro's taken her. Rastro…he knows Force-dampening technology. He's crossed Rey and Uncle Luke's path before; he knows her power. He would've…_

The facts of Rey's last words whip around Ben's head, physical things caught in a windstorm of adrenaline. He must focus, calm down and think, to make sense of them all.

A large blessing is that the _Boshtar_ is on its way to the system Lautori is located. In an empty conference room (Ben knows the schematics of a Destroyer enough to recognize one), Ben stares out into the black. He sways, still upright, knees locked against his better judgment.

Out there, there is nothing. Since his infancy, he has only been connected to a few people: his mother, always, ever constant, his father ( _don't_ ), his uncle Luke, Snoke (which has been snuffed out, extinguished, as far as he has managed with all of his willpower), and Rey.

Rey, even since the beginning, since he kept her stowed at Starkiller, had crawled into his consciousness so that he, Kylo Ren, thought he had started an obsession about her.

In the months prior to his…defection, he supposes (not surrender, not anymore), he had tentatively picked at the lull between him and her, this strange latching of a bond that had bound them like moons in an orbit. Beforehand, when she was in hiding with Skywalker, he angrily scoured for it, then entreated her, ghostlike, like strings on a haunted, seductive instrument. He wanted to get back at her, tease her, manipulate her…he realizes now that he's always wanted her. Though he doubted she actually sensed him.

Their close proximity on that lonely seacoast from weeks ago strengthened both of them, more than either was comfortable admitting. It solidified the parts that were missing, filled out the hollow caverns in their hearts.

And even after…the scent of her skin, unable to be conjured up now in the thick cold of space; The blurred amounts when her body's been pressed against his, where base desires ached to fold her into his person, until they could never be parted again…

And now there is just _nothing_.

His emotions have always gotten the better of him. Every heartbeat is a reminder of his failure to protect her. _My Rey. Where are you?_

He is so rigid that he is sweating. He thought he was doing the right _thing_ , keeping her safe. How could he have fucked this up?!

Well, the warnings were all there, weren't they? The Force vision: of course it wouldn't be so blatant to show him Rey's capture.

But the face of the Mirialan, the Knight of Ren, Xolon Ren…he can't be a part of this. Ben hadn't even seen or spoken to Xolon in over a year.

Maybe Snoke is behind all of this.

Ben's head drops, finally conceding to this dark possibility. Ben Solo and Kylo Ren may be wanted dead or alive by the First Order, but it was _Luke and Rey_ who liberated him. Rey had escaped her near-fatal encounter with his old master, where Ben was not strong enough to. Yet the most feared face of the First Order is no longer an imposing factor in this war because of his allegiance, his devotion to her.

Oh, Force. He should have – Ben could be sick. This could have been planned all along somehow. The kriffing wanted posters could have been some front. Have all eyes on capturing the traitor, and leaving her apart to…to…

He is an idiot he cannot protect one single person he has no chance of (of what, of WHAT? Of deserving her - ?) He has abandoned her -

 _Do NOT feel sorry for yourself_ , he begs himself, breath harsh.

Oh, and the near-invisible tendrils of his voice, _Snoke's_ voice, slow and noxious. They are still just echoes of his past, but they ring true with every heartbeat, every breath: _Did you think you could surpass me? You, boy…you still have much to learn…_

His teeth could shatter, he grits them so tightly. _Rey is not dead._ He screams it in his mind. _She is alive – ALIVE -_

Just as he spirals out of his mental probes, the door hisses open.

Sssssssssssssssssssssss

Poe knows better than to barge open. He's just come from informing central command of Rey's abduction. It wasn't a call he was looking forward to. General Organa seemed to know he was about to deliver bad news, despite the overwhelming success of this mission. It should have uplifted central command's grim spirits, though news of Rey's capture was received as serious a blow as Kylo Ren's defection from the First Order. Not good at all.

Thank kriff Poe isn't the one to tell Finn this. Or Chewbacca. All Leia could tell Poe was that they're on a classified mission.

Worn out from managing the prisoners and communicating with Central Command, he keeps the silence for a bit longer. Ben acts like he doesn't notice Poe is even there.

There's no furniture so he goes to lean against the wall, watching the tower of a man. He wonders with distant sarcasm what new forces seem to torture him.

"Any luck?"

Solo's response is heavy and hopeless. "I'm busy. If anything changes – "

"Your mother called," Poe interrupts, thinking of the woman imploring for news of her son.

Instead of irritation, Ben sounds careless. "I know."

Poe could've groaned. Duh, the Force….

"Anything I can do? That – connection thing in my head…"

"Not..." Solo groans. "Not an option. If I concentrate too much, you may end up brain-damaged."

And he cares about…not letting that happen suddenly? Poe smirks. "And that's not what Rey wants."

"No. No it's not."

Poe could scoff at this display of cooperation. He won't buy it, any of it. Not when Solo saved his life, not when he acted like he was Rey's pet, bodyguard, whatever. It was all bantha shit, anyway.

Except…

He felt the desperation, the fire-hot fear at losing Rey in his head.

As cute and innocent in some ways Rey is, the country spitfire, there is an otherworldly roughness to her. She'd seen stuff he hadn't. He trusts her, believes in her the moment he first saw her return with her own lightsaber next to Luke Skywalker.

He has to ask, though. "How do you know she's not dead?"

"I couldn't kill her. Neither could Snoke. If even _he_ couldn't…" he trails off. It's a long time before Poe realizes he won't speak again soon. Eventually he leaves.

Sssssss

Barely an hour passes before Terric informs Niall they arrived. They, meaning Lord Ben or whatever, and the pretty pilot boy.

Perking at the news, Niall hasn't expected anyone to arrive so quickly. He won't admit it to anyone, but he's nervous. He's not stupid, he knows what's been going on between Rey and Lord Creepiness. And the boy has killed before, for orders gone wrong or some petty shit like that. Now Niall's about to inform him his girlfriend's been kidnapped.

A small fighter whines out of nowhere, ambushing Niall in the middle of the stone courtyard. He braces himself as it lands atop one of the condemned buildings. Niall can't help it – his nuts shiver like they're gonna be chopped off.

 _Nothin' to worry about, the man has powers, he probably already_ knows -

The shadow of Kylo Ren emerges from the ramp, lunges out and lands like a cat on his feet.

Okay, _shit_.

Ben Solo stomps over, teeth bared and eyes fixated. "Where were you?"

Niall licks his lips. "Took you long enough – "

"Where. WERE you?" Ben demands again.

"Hey, _easy now_ , let me just explain – "

Shirt collars and jacket fronts beware; Ben grabs this one and backs Niall into a wall, crowding him.

"Open your mind to me, _now_!" Ben demands. It is the only courtesy he has a mind to extend instead of ripping through.

"I was too late," Niall explains in a surprisingly even voice. "We went in separately, and Rey spotted Rastro – I saw him a second after. Allright, she raced after him and I tried to catch up, but – " he half-smiles ruefully. "Our girl's a fast runner when she gets started, isn't she?"

"And you, a wanted criminal of all trades, couldn't keep up with her?!" Ben adds bitterly. "You're _armed_. You've shot and killed bounty hunters you've worked with just to protect yourself – you and that stinking wench of yours, and that Bothan who clings to you."

"Son, you better calm down," Niall breathes out, not appreciating the cheek.

" _Don't. Tell me. To calm down_ ," he hisses through his teeth, breath fuming.

Behind him, Poe has had to make do with the rickety emergency stairs. He can't care less what Solo does to the hired con. He smells and talks like he can just slither away from the truth. So instead he absorbs the scene around him. They've landed at the spot Mr. Braeton claimed was the last place Rey was seen – the half-Zabrak had asked around and someone claimed she saw light-rods of red, green and blue.

There are tread marks of footprints and kicked-up dust everywhere. No one spoke of a ship landing here, but this place is so shady that someone could have withheld that fact save for a handful or credits.

He supposes it's not such a bad thing for Solo to, you know, mind-probe some of the thieves and scoundrels here, to get the truth.

Something gleams in his view. When he leans out and squints, his stomach drops. "Solo."

The dead tone rouses Ben from his instinct, once rampant, to punish. Both men peer over to Poe's line of sight, where something lies on the ground.

At once, Poe feels weighed down by the twin of the object that Ben Solo stares at. The half of Rey's lightsaber, the item that was to insure his and his comrades' safety should Ben Solo go berserk, had never once been used.

The one that Rey had taken to this particular mission now lays abandoned in the dust.

Solo's fire seems to have died. In place of it is a deathly cool, a strangled silence as he looks down on the metal weapon as if it was once a living thing that had died.

Poe watches Solo carefully. The lightsaber…Rey had once told him that something had happened the moment she touched Luke Skywalker's lightsaber: visions had swum in her head. Will the same thing…?

Solo picks it up, and in another moment he shuts his eyes like a headache plagues him. The changeling criminal moves toward him.

"N-no, wait," Poe warns.

sssssssss

Ben has seen Rastro before, though with little care for his profession when he was Kylo Ren. The idea of a spineless underworld crawler like Rastro in the trade of procuring Force-sensitives is appalling and laughable still…

And yet the echoing memories imbedded in Rey's sword show him just how wrong, how foolish he had been.

 _They are not Knights of Ren, though they certainly fall upon her like them. Before – Rastro's skeletal face teases her, and the other…pale green and beautiful in her lost youth, it changes._

 _The face flickers from Lorra's to an unknown Togruta, with a saber of her own…a facial-distorter._

… _and Rey's panic when the Force completely fails her command._

 _Ben feels it, sharply, into his bones. A Force-dampener._

… _and something else, something blinding…white and ominous as it descends from the dark heavens…_

 _A ship. Ben forces his eyes open, even as the turbulence peels away the moisture – he must see, anything – the modal, make, or any symbols typical of these crime syndicates…_

 _It sounds small, smaller than the_ Falcon's _engines. Rey's consciousness is gone – he feels that pain, too, and it kills him - and the vision wavers into blurriness. Ben feels himself sink back into reality._

 _He fights to stay, to face Rey motionless on the ground. The shapes of her assailants close in._

 _NO!_

"Nooo!" he's sputtered out loud. He's knelt on the ground, eyes dry and wide, staring up into nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

There is nothing here. No clues, no hidden messages. She's gone.

Fists clench. His blood thunders in his head. He was supposed to have answers.

"Son?" Niall's voice, Coruscanti-thick like silver, rings in his ears. "What'd you see?"

Waves of self-loathing batter through him in a way that is so strong, so much like in his youth. It's like he's shrunken into the weak ten-year-old who heard voices of his failures, inadequacies.

Idiot! Fool!

He is bent on the floor like a child and two fully-grown adults, better than him (better, in a way, in _her_ eyes than himself), and they hesitate to close in on him because they fear he will explode.

It's all he wants to do.

He cannot help it – his throat is tight with hatred, and all he wants to do is burn, become small and disappear. He's failed and nothing matters.

When the scream leaves him, finally, _finally_ – it feels like falling, and floating. It's the rage and helplessness he needs so much, the soul-ripping despair that no GOOD Jedi should allow.

The ache that had been churning, since he boarded the revamped Star Destroyer, powers through him, rippling in very physical tremors, until it blows through the compound. Dust whips forward, susurrating with his roar of anguish.

Poe and Niall feel no danger to themselves, though they watch the man, the tornado bent like he could tear a hole through the earth.

Niall shares one look with the pilot, who offers no expression of confidence or understanding. He moves forward and crouches to Ben's level.

"Solo. What did you see?"

Ben is grateful for his shield of hair. He's – he's shaking. "Nothing. She –"

"You saw something." Niall can't believe how easily he begins to coach the young man. "Come on, just close your eyes – don't think about what you're saying, just say it – "

"What does it matter?" Ben hisses. _Please get away from me, I'm not a child._

"It matters a lot because she is your friend, mate, and you can bloody do anything."

Ben could openly weep at the stupidity, the ridiculousness of the situation. A grown man, a more scruffy delinquent than Han Solo himself, is trying to coax him into doing something right. Kriff, he even _sounds_ like his father.

And that's what makes his eyes wet. That's what drives the knife into his heart.

Humiliation keeps him silent. If only he could fly, disappear.

"Son…Ben, listen to me." Niall begins to feel helpless, too. "You're a bloody Jedi. How did you know she was gone? You called us, remember?" he throws a look at Poe. "Right?"

Poe stares at them dumbly. "Yeah," he nods shakily. "He – Rey talked through – to me. To him," he gestures to Ben's bent form.

"Okay." Niall sounds so calm it's stupid. "Okay, so Ben – Ben! What did she say to you? It's all right son – "

" _Don't_ – !" Ben tries to suck in the saliva and salt that seems to secrete, from his eyes and nose, into his mouth. "Don't call me that. _Please_ – "

"All right. You gotta help us, Ben. We can't do this without you. Now," he shifts closer. "Rey's a fighter. She's smarter than you, me, even pretty boy over there."

Ben can't help it – he chuckles. It gives Niall hope. "She's faster, stronger, and if your roles were reversed, she'd throw me across the room, too, for losing you, but she'd find you. Now she reached out to you. Not anyone else, right? She knows you. She trusts you."

 _I trust you_ , she said. Him. She trusts him.

By now Niall's thrown an arm around Ben's shoulder, to anchor him. It calms him. It's the same gesture his father had done as soon as he grew taller. Like a man.

Ben hates this man – hates him, hates him for…for having molested Rey, for so casually speaking of the last time he saw her, for being more shaken over Ben's appearance than for losing her. But in this new world of loneliness, without the one person who made everything…different, yet bearable, Niall Braeton manages to make Ben Solo feel useful. Worthy. He'll take it.

Though he wants to shout out to the sky and try to tear down actual buildings, Ben does calm. With shuddering breaths and counts to ten, then twenty, and the clarity of the chill night air, His fury and panic have subsided. Of course Rey is alive – of _course_ she knows what she's doing. She's scaring the shit out of everyone who's ever cared for her…who loves her…

"You can use that Jedi noggin' of yours, right?" Niall reminds him. "To read minds? There's a lot of folks who might know Rastro. This is one of his home bases. We can do some diggin' and get some info."

Yes. Yes, that sounds like a good start. Very good, good thinking. Ben cannot say these things because, kriff, he doesn't like sounding _nice_. He doesn't do nice, and he's had a horrible fucking shit day, and his arm still fucking hurts and he hates Poe Dameron.

Instead he nods, shaking his hair out of his face.

Oh, shit-wait – no, he gets up quickly, looking like he needs to walk off his anxiety, when really he just needs to wipe his face of any moisture. He's not fucking weak, thanks.

 _Kriffdammit my_ mask….

When he looks back at Niall, ignoring whatever stinking expression Poe might be giving him, he scoffs quietly and swears, shaking his head; to clear the madness in his head. The desperation in his heart.

"I'm going to kill her," he says finally. He will utterly destroy her – for this wretchedness tearing him apart, for guilt and frustration and this shaking need to make this right. He will kill her, kill himself, throw himself at her feet if – WHEN! – when he sees her again, safe and whole. He will beg whatever gods and ghosts of the Force that he _understands_.

 _Just please find her. Keep her safe._

The thief chortles heartily, and things don't feel so horrible now.


	32. Chapter 32 Intermission

The Call to the Light

By TheOneAndOnlySlayer

Chapter 32 Intermissions and thank-yous…

Hi Everyone,

I'm so grateful for those who have read _I Need a Teacher_ and have continued with this odyssey of a story. Each review, favorite, and follow notification has spurred me to go further, to make your days fuller. I love writing and I love the challenge of this pair. I'm writing to you guys just to let you know that, since school is starting, chapter updates may be infrequent. I won't rush this through because some of this terminology and canon-related stuff can be time-consuming.

Also, I feel like I've lost track of the character development. I decided to read my work over again and make some general notes on how to fluidly evolve Ben's, Rey's, Poe's, Finn's, Niall's, Terric's and everyone else's development. So, if you guys decide to re-read your favorite chapters, you'll see some notes on the top of each entry like "(edited as of 9-15-2016)."

One last thing…You may have noticed _The Call to the Light_ is lacking in flashbacks as in _I Need a Teacher_. I haven't been able to organize a proper collage of memories that go with the current part of the story. Flashbacks will occur, later…however, I've been thinking of writing a prequel that details the events between Starkiller and the first Chapter in "I Need a Teacher." How exactly do Rey and Ben begin to trust each other, right after Ben's just _left_ Snoke? I can't just leave it at that one chapter – I need to make it believable.

The smut's definitely developing, guys, trust me. Like, seriously…I've been drafting stuff based on my own experience (loss of virginity, and all). It's coming.

Until then, friends, thanks again for following my stories and your reviews are taken to heart.

Slayer.

Sssssssssssssssssss


	33. Chapter 33

The Call to the Light

By TheOneAndOnlySlayer

Chapter 33

They take Rey and the others through the ship. Uncovered and fully conscious, Rey's sharp mind works feverishly to store every detail: the number of turns, left or right, that they take, and the additional doors or hallways corresponding to their path; the change of smell from drafty to musky to humid; the amount of others onboard; the different languages (Basic, Huttese, Rodian)

Most importantly are the control pads on the walls, the hum of security holos high up in the corners, and the exact shape of the interior that Rey is having a tough time placing as to what kind of ship it is. She's been in the bodies of hundreds of gutted ships from Star Destroyers to lightweight scuttlecrafts.

They're shoved inside of a large room – the same room Rey was tied upright in and kicked Rastro. Rastro isn't exactly a problem – not a factor she wasn't aware of before. The Togruta who seems to be the designated Rey-sitter doesn't seem to be much of a challenge, other than who exactly she takes orders from.

It's the voice of the man from earlier that concerns her.

The guards shove the others to their feet. At the other side of the room are a half-dozen figures.

The first two are horn-headed, young Iktochi twin males. A female Zabrak with copper skin stands with edgy confidence next to a hooded, timid figure, possibly female. Then there is a Cerean, female by the looks of it, and –

"Have the Jedi sit over there," the same cultured voice speaks, coming from a middle-aged Mirialan. His stance is one who has no reason to be afraid on this ship; he is in complete control, no matter how relaxed he sounds or looks. Rey is immediately wary of him as she is dragged away.

The group Rey came with appear more unsettled than the fewer, more belligerent-looking ones (save the hooded woman who looks like she wants to disappear). She gets a cold feeling in her stomach as someone shoves at her shoulder.

"Do not touch me," she bites back in Huttese.

Immediately, a pain - like crushing bones - grip her legs, leaving Rey crumbling to the ground. She's not sure how it got there at first – until she looks up at the Mirialan man's posture, slightly in her direction, with fingers held in the signature pinching gesture to choke.

So. This one _is_ Force-sensitive. He wasn't kidding about becoming Rey's teacher.

"You will watch, for now," the Mirialan instructs. His voice is painfully, agonizingly patient.

Ignoring Rey's hot glare, the Mirialan turns to the new group. "Bring out the Cerean."

An elderly Cerean male, haggard and knobby-kneed, is hauled into the front. They place a stone in front of him. As if this has all been rehearsed before, the Iktochi twins step forward. The poor Cerean regards the stone with more hopelessness than the two dangerous-looking males.

The Mirialan addresses him. "You know what to do. If you fail to please me again…you either expand your education," he adds, looking over his shoulder at the boys. "Or theirs."

Rey watches, transfixed in awaiting trepidation. _Something's going to happen._

The old Cerean sighs heavily and stares at the stone. Rey is at once reminded of her training with Luke. This was the first thing he had her do. The first day of training was oddly dismal, compared to the feats she had been capable of at Starkiller. Pressured to not fail, she had over-worked her mind and couldn't even levitate the little sea-pebble Luke had placed in front of her.

She looks upon the Cerean with more alarm than before. He – he's being _trained_. Rey looks at the others she was brought with more clearly. They are all here to be trained.

Now the divide between the huddled cowardly and the merciless that stand above them is more clear.

The poor man breathes heavily to try and lift the little rock. Rey wants to open her mouth – to go over to him. _It's okay. Just clear your mind. It's just there, waiting for you to hold it up._

"Stop thinking too much, old man," the Mirialan tells him stonily.

Rey begs with her eyes for the Cerean to meet her gaze. If he can read minds – can they read minds, with those brains of theirs? – Rey sends encouraging thoughts his way, if only to –

"Enough," says the bent Cerean, his voice soft and mournful. "I will not do it."

Attention perked, Rey watches the Mirialan's response. He fixes the Cerean with a bored stare for an agonizing time, silencing the room. The slightest nod he gives to the twins is all it takes.

The stone has all but been forgotten, until the sound of it hitting bone makes Rey jump. The Cerean is thrown onto his back, a helpless cry of pain clattering the air. He shakily grips his broken thigh.

 _Kriff_ – Rey doesn't realize she's up until the grunt behind her holds her down.

Then the twins move in, their own arms outstretched. Dread sinks in Rey's chest. The Iktochi twins begin to take turns, moving the wounded man, like he is a puppet tangled in its own strings. He's thrashed around so suddenly that his screams are cut off.

Rey fights; the blob of muscle from behind doesn't stop her. Pushing herself up, using her hands and torso to shove and break free, Rey will not stand for this.

 _Leave him alone!_

It is futile. The Mirialan easily freezes her with the Force. It plunges her into a glue-like stasis. She hates this trick, personally – Ben had done this to her, and it felt so underhanded.

Circling the scene – the other captives cower in terror – the Mirialan comes over to Rey. He is predatory in this relaxed, almost cultured air of his. It reminds her of Kylo Ren (Ben), older and wiser…if he were stone cold.

This is cruelty she hadn't thought existed since Jakku…since she was little and everyone was slightly more demonic, more untrustworthy and ready to pounce on her and exploit her. This is abuse. It screams the type of violence she had heard shaped the Knights of Ren. Kylo. Ben.

Wait.

The Knights…

The Mirialan said he would be Rey's teacher. Now…now it makes sense. He's a Ren Knight. He _must_ be.

This sonofabitch is the man Rastro had been in business with: searching far and wide for Force-sensitives to capture, enslave and trade with…this man must shape them with pain and fear, make them hard and cruel themselves. Make them Knights, like Ben had been.

Rey won't look at him. She may already know the answer, but she asks anyway. "Why are you doing this?"

The Mirialan steps closer, assessing Rey's indignation. "We wouldn't have to have done this if you and your master hadn't killed six of us. We've lost skilled, admirably trained warriors because of you. Now we must start again."

She has to bait him, somehow, to reveal more. "And what about me? You going to make me into one of these poor students of yours?"

"Perhaps. That was Snoke's wish," he enunciates into her ear, "after Kylo Ren first discovered you. You humiliated them. That misled little prince humiliated us, and now there is no reprieve for you both."

The Mirialan now sinks to his knees, the leather of his clothes stretching like a rattling warning. He purrs behind Rey's ear. "Kylo Ren was wrong about you. Even the Supreme Leader was wrong about you. You truly are bright as a star. But all stars burn out."

Two guards remove the Cerean, dragging him away into the shadows, his pitiful wails echoing into Rey's hurried, distressed heartbeats. As if he is expended his use for today. Like he's trash.

Slowly, resigned at inability to do anything, Rey's pained expression hardens.

The Mirialan remains so close to her that when he inhales thoughtfully, she can feel the sound rattle through her ears. "It just…takes…pressure."

White-hot confidence and pride must be squashed down. He thinks he can change her, make her go Dark – or kill her fighting spirit. She swallows, keeping her composure. She can't do anything. She really will have to wait: wait to do something. Wait to save them.

She's good at waiting. She forces herself to remember that.

The Mirialan turns back to the center of the room. The captives are at his mercy as he says the word, "Next."

Ssssssssssssssssssssssss

Terric's kept the albino girl bound and blindfolded aboard the _Falcon_. It hadn't been easy bringing her there, but he had used the tranq dart on her once the catastrophe with Rey started. Something was just _off_ about her. She seemed to know something and she was acting coy/smug about it.

He's not exactly surprised to hear Kylo Ren is coming aboard. If he interrogates her…as much as Terric hates Kylo Ren, hates that he walks and breathes on the same planet as him, let alone a ship, he knows what this man is capable of. And with Rey kidnapped…

Maker pity every single soul who crosses his path now.

The albino hasn't said a word, only giggled or sighed coquettishly with every shift of her leg. When Rumley shows Kylo Ren, Niall and the cute pilot in, Terric watches the taller man carefully.

The Dark Jedi offers a single glance to Terric before prowling over to the girl. He takes a spare chair and drags it, letting it scrape against the durasteel floor.

And then suddenly he lifts it and SLAMS it onto the floor. The girl squeaks and shudders.

Kylo Ren sinks into the chair. His voice is silken and detached that it makes Terric's skin prickle. "Comfortable? Be honest now."

The server girl shakes her head.

"Do you know why we're here?"

"You're looking for a girl," she admits, playful pretense abandoning her.

"Not just any girl," Kylo Ren cuts in. "This one is special."

"T-the changeling. The Zabrak prick was asking about her – "

"Not her." Cold emotion turns his face. "There's a new one now. The one who was put into a cage fight, with a nexu."

Niall shifts impatiently. "Kriff, son, just look inside her head – "

The Jedi cocks his head to silence the man, the slightest of body language making him…taut with curiosity. Terric notices how the albino closes herself.

Ben, on the other hand, receives her spilling thoughts easily. He has no need to invade her mind, though he's ready to.

Enough. He cannot keep poking at her fear.

"I'm capable of many things, girl. Capable of making people hurt. Making them do things for me. But…I don't want to hurt you. You can either tell me the truth and leave, forgetting all of this ever happened. We can even take you far away from here. Or, I will tear through your head anyway. And I promise you it'll hurt."

The albino alien shakes, whimpers.

Ben must remember that although she is dressed like a tart, she was once a girl, and is not exactly different from Rey; innocent and in a broken world. He must be gentle.

"Tell me where they go. Rastro…who does he work with? What ship does he take?"

She takes a deep, shaky breath before answering. The clarity of her mind informs Ben that she speaks the entire truth. "There's a Sallustran who fixes their ships. His name is Dalpo. He says there's a man – a dealer who takes people on special reserve."

Relief eases Ben's tight expression. "Good. That's good. Where does the ship go?"

"I don't know."

"Where does this Sallustran, Dalpo, go?"

She's thinking. "There's a smoke café. A kilometer from the club. He's always there."

Ssssssssssssssssss

Ben did rifle through the woman's mind, but was able to coax reluctant permission from her. He got a thin memory image of Dalpo, a wiry thing shorter than Rumley. Ben is sure he can tell him apart from other Sallustrans, though it doesn't hurt to share the same image with the others.

The smoke café is simply an awning over a corner with two tables outside. Poe and Terric wait behind a corner across the street while Korla strides up to the smoke shop in sultry confidence.

Ben watches from the roof, above Poe and Terric. He can't reach out with the Force. He won't use it recklessly - if Rey can be subdued, he'll risk his pride in saying it could happen to him.

Dalpo comes and sits down. Korla nearly makes the little mechanic stop in his tracks when she catches Dalpo's eye. It's a matter of casual conversation and fake flirting until Korla decides she's hooked him.

All they have to do is get him close for Ben to search his mind. If he prepped the ship, if he saw this special dealer, Ben and those Star Destroyers will have enough to get her back.

Korla suddenly looks up to where Ben and Niall are perched. She's telling them to follow her, as they go inside the building.

"Quiet. We're moving," Ben warns Niall as he grabs him by the shoulders. He has them back up for a running start, then to make a giant leap over the bustling street. Through the Force, they soar over like a whisper.

It's not much of an advance, as already Ben senses trouble rising. By the time they reach the doorway from the top floor of the smoke shop, Korla's in danger.

Ben shoots through the doorway downstairs. The closest door is ripped away with a brisk flip of his hand, until he finds Korla with Dalpo and a vibro-blade at her neck.

"Come at me and she's dead," he mutters in Basic.

The Force had been rippling around Ben Solo, waiting to be called. Now it urges to be commanded.

He fixes the long-lipped degenerate with a stare, drowning out Dalpo's sense of willpower. "Surrender."

"I surrender," he admits flatly. Korla runs into Niall's protection.

The Sallustran is at Ben's mercy. Threatening Korla is reason enough to just rip through for what he needs.

 _A filthy hanger that smells like a locker room; life-form sweat and engine exhaust. Dalpo looking up half the day to address Rastro, the dumbass who walks around without a shirt, and that hot bossy Togruta female with a lightsaber proudly displayed at her hip._

 _Then – an encounter he can't seem to remember – blurred unnaturally._

Ben frowns. Dalpo's memory's been distorted on purpose, but it's a bad job. It takes Ben seconds to re-patch.

 _Dalpo comes around the hull of the old Rodian cargo freighter, painted in blue symbols. It looks vaguely like Korla's angelic tattoo. Voices make him glance up. The resulting face makes Ben's blood run sickly dry._

 _A Mirialan male, middle-aged and handsome, in good shape, dressed in very practical dark clothing. The exact one that had teased at Ben's consciousness in Force-visions._

 _The man – this_ dealer _– out of all the bastards in this criminal underworld – him?!_

" _I am to wait until they have arrived. They will not escape us," he says._

" _You really think we can snag both of 'em?" Rastro asks._

" _Our priority is her. The disgraceful traitor isn't our concern at the moment."_

 _Navy blue eyes flick to Ralpo, and Ben, at the same time._

The moment is robbed from under his feet. Ben tumbles out of the memory, disarmed and struck dumb.

His name is Xolon Ren and he is a Ren Knight. There had been up to twenty-four of his once sworn brethren at one point, and not all of them Force-sensitive. Most were, yet when Ben had been first recruited…the night they attacked and slaughtered all the Jedi, Luke's precious students…Ben had been the most powerful one attuned to the Force. Xolon, Ben is sure, had executed the most Jedi that night.

He was – is – efficient, deceptive and patient to almost no fault. His responsibilities to Supreme Leader Snoke were always of a secretive manner. Last Ben had remembered, Xolon had just disappeared from service to the Supreme Leader. It was shelved as none of his pressing concerns, and as Kylo had better things to focus on, he didn't care.

Xolon Ren. Xolon Ren has Rey.

"Solo – fuck!"

Ben's control through the Force slackens, leaving the Sallustran enough time to jump through the window. Niall hurries after him.

Korla's perfume oil creates a cloud near Ben as she shakes his shoulders. "Hey – you okay?"

Ben feels the world is off his axis. He could be sick right now.

"N-no," he makes out, fighting off the headache. "Not exactly."


	34. Chapter 34

The Call to the Light

Chapter 34

By TheOneAndOnlySlayer

Squaring his shoulders and ignoring Korla's protests – his injured one flares again, as if to scream I'M STILL HERE – Ben runs after the Sallustran and the changeling, clicking on his comm-link to Poe and Terric to close in.

Dalpo, the slippery little fucker, is a real shadow-fiend. He's impossible to spot through the thriving markets at this time of day. Luckily Ben's atop the buildings and can zero in on the fastest-moving life-form weaving through the crowds.

Fuck hiding. He skids to a stop and takes out the blaster loaned to him. Of course he knows how to use it. He waits for Dalpo to approach an intersection to an alley, a dead end.

The shot he takes is a planned miss, right at Dalpo's feet. Dalpo takes the right, thinking he's dodged the blast and is about to reach safety – right where Ben wants him.

Poe and Terric are the first to reach their cornered prey, quicker on foot. Ben descends and crosses the street, struggling to put the weapon away. He so badly wants to use it, to pin this miserable creature to the wall.

To his surprise, when he arrives in the alley, Poe's slammed the Sallustran into the wall. Dalpo cries out, but to no avail.

"Dameron." Ben eyes the wide-eyed alien. He must know more: Xolon, the ship that took Rey, Rastro, the others…these others Rey had been ranting about.

He must prepare to see more. "Hold him down."

Terric glances over, hesitating. Ben expected these two to question his instruction (any instruction of his, really), so he glares back as if to say, _what do you expect?_

Poe, on the other hand, kicks Dalpo's legs so he is forced to kneel. The act makes Ben search his former enemy's face for an explanation.

Poe seems to look at Ben with what seems to be confidence. But it's not. It's more even, simple and strong. It's…trust. It's trust.

"Do it," Poe says. _Do what you have to._

 _ssssssssssssssssssssssss_

That seems enough for Ben Solo. He straightens and extends one arm, plunging through the mechanic's mind.

Poe's grip on the alien slackens a bit. Not too long ago – kriff, that was him once.

He swallows thickly and thinks of something else: he knows, though, what Ben is doing. He is summoning the Force and wrapping it around Dalpo's resistance, pinning down his willpower more forcefully until the little man struggles and whimpers.

Poe doesn't falter when the Sallustran spits and thrashes. He watches Ben's face, crooked and struggling internally. The taller man almost seems to keep shaking his head. Is there someone speaking through to him?

And then Ben's face darkens. He nods in conclusion and turns around, hands over his head. The Sallustran moans, wiped out from the mental invasion.

When the dark Jedi whirls back on them, the forced composure is obvious. He finally sighs, expelling whatever toil he had gained in this act. Poe steps back in surprise when Ben lays a hand hovering over Dalpo.

"You will forget…you ever saw us. The Tholothian threatened your life and you ran away here."

Sssssssssssssssss

All Poe can make out from Ben's ragged mumbling is Cambrian-class Rodian ZX49-Delta. Those ships aren't exactly rare, but the Jedi shook his head when pressed if there were other transports used to switch around the…trafficked cargo. And something about an escape pod that'll never be used. Sneaking it off for…credits." Ben muttered dumbly.

When they finally reach the _Falcon_ , Poe inhales the filtered air once the engines kick under them. There's…there's justifying what just happened. Yeah, he can definitely go to sleep tonight. What Poe can't seem to shake off is Ben Solo's reddened, pained face as he did the mind probe. Was that real, or fake? Because honestly, he expected the guy to just rip the alien apart. Like, physically. A big mess of split brains in the alleyway.

Poe stashes his confusion away for later. Right now he needs to be in Commander mode.

"We got a couple hours until we reach the _Boshtar_. We can devise a plan on how to hunt down this Rodian ship from there – maybe recruit some Resistance volunteers to help us out."

Niall and Korla just nod away. "You boys hungry? Haven't eaten in…"

"Literally just six hours, doll," Korla admonishes him.

"Yeah, and I burned it all off in six minutes. Come on and fix me something, lovely."

Terric sits back into the pilot's seat and plugs in a music device, leaving Poe and Ben Solo to retreat to their own privacy.

And of course, Poe's got a few seconds to get away, because this whole Poe-Ben thing is awkward as hell. Poe decides he's actually hungry, too, and decides to join Niall and his hot girlfriend.

But Ben Solo stubbornly won't leave him alone. "I'm coming with you, whatever you plan."

Is he talking about eating together? Confused, Poe recovers. He means to find Rey. "Of course you're coming with us."

There's a beat of silence where the awkwardness skyrockets just because they've maintained eye contact. It does something weird to Poe. Maybe this is what Rey's stupidly interpreted as…squishy lust feelings.

Ugh. Kriff, gross. He loves Rey, but she's insane.

"You should…" Poe tries to recover. "Get some rest. Um, I'll…grab something and then co-pilot us out of here."

Ben watches Poe's retreating form. Poe's approached some sort of barrier between them, and almost teetered curiously over that line. Ben wanted to say something that is sarcastic and jeering, just to reaffirm that they are not and _will not_ be friends. But he, of course, doesn't think of anything until Poe disappears.

 _Careful with this ship, she's not an X-wing._

ssssssssssssssssss

When Ben trudges into Rey's room, he reasons that it's because her room has the private 'fresher. And he remembers the medkit she kept in here, which he needs badly. His arm is in critical shape and there's no way he'll let anyone touch him right now.

He just really needs to be alone. Not to meditate, but to shut off everything – his feelings, his consciousness, his guilt, and the growing fear that this situation could not be more worse. He would not admit it, but there is a terrible thought that Rey…if there is anyone equally as good at killing Jedi, it's Xolon. But Rey is not just a Jedi. She's…she must know what she's doing. If only Ben didn't feel so sick.

Rey prepared a room for him in the spare storage space, but he's confident in his selfishness once he turns on the lights. A string of little glowlights reveal the thin, secondhand dyed drapes Rey had used to make this space hers. He regards her cot, low on the ground and lumpy, but thick and piled with blankets. They're small treasures of hers, as are the healing crystal and the illuminated star chart. Everything, he notices, is either bolted or sealed down with adhesive gel. Smart girl. Her old staff…his heart lurches at the sight of it. She had used something similar to its design to try and knock his head clean off its neck months ago. She's such a fierce fighter.

This is his space tonight, until he finds her…and then, if he's allowed, if she grants it…it could be theirs.

The thought warms him unexpectedly. He feels his skin pebble at the idea of her presence tied with his in this small space. That bed…he's never shared a bed with someone before. In his childhood, he had stumbled into his parents' bedroom late at night and saw them huddled together in seemingly uncomfortable positions, but neither appeared to have minded in the least. It never made sense. Two of the most different people in the universe, and yet they clung to each other like constellations in the sky.

Rey would feel so small in his arms, buried like a rodent underneath those blankets. His little desert creature; space is cold, and he'd never want her to be cold. He knows, now, exactly what little she wears under these sheets, though…does she radiate heat in sleep? He wonders…when they escaped Snoke, her hand was all he dared to touch.

 _Idiot, you don't remember? You nearly possessed her in this_ room _when you tried to heal her!_

With a huff of self-admonishment, Ben shoves off his clothes and removes his shoes. He makes quick work of patching up his arm with bacta. The pain…he's used to pain, and he can stow it away for now.

He's a little tall for this 'fresher, but the water's hot enough to pleasantly dull all of his senses. There's a smell, floral and fragrant that's definitely coming from soap. It permeates everything from the 'fresher's dense heat. It drives into Ben and assaults his anxiety, leaving him slack and heavy-headed.

He wants to laugh. The universe is making fun of him – whether on the Dark Side or Light, he will always chase her, desperate and clumsy, only now he is truly lovesick. He feels it like an accelerated disease, crippling his breathing and sense of composure.

Hands rub at his face and pull his hair back. He's tired; he wants to let it all go away and just…

 _Rey. Rey, I'm coming. Do you hear me? I'll find you. I'll save…I'll save you._

It's such a timid and hopeless thought, like a child's. He can't…he doesn't want to think of Xolon, not here. Not in this safe space of hers. All Ben will think about is her face, and her voice. If he imagines she is here, now, he won't sink in self-guilt.

She would be here, in their room – he's so gangly and cumbersome in this cramped space that she would have to twist around him. Or maybe have to lie on the bed while he stomped around looking for something. Laugh at his attempts.

People who are together…couples usually use the 'fresher together. He's not sure why he knows that, only he just does. She would – Ben scoffs, doesn't realize he's laughing at the image: they would just be a combined blob of flesh that no amount of water could truly help clean. They'd have to take separate sessions in here.

Maybe she'd wait her turn while doing her hair in the mirror. He faintly remembers the scent of it, warm and amber-like. It was so soft under his fingers when he…when they kissed in the dark. She's changed her style lately: not just the three knots, but sometimes a single ponytail or even a braid. He could bet that his mother had taught her how to do it, or maybe Rey had tentatively asked. Rey doesn't like drawing attention to herself. Ridiculous. Even though she's so kind and lovely and perfect, she would never want to bother anyone, thinking she's not worth it…

Something twists and coils inside, deep where he…his cock hardens.

Ben stills. Instant shame ties with curiosity. He is not sure what to do. He knows, distantly, what he _can_ do. Isn't this what all people know somehow? He hasn't been allowed.

Every single part of him has been disciplined. He has no free reign, even over this: his own body, something he had never possessed on his own. Always under someone else's command. Stupid. Unworthy.

Except – she would trust him. She'd allow him.

He looks down at his own body. Pale and wrung with scars and muscle. He's never considered the hair that runs down his groin and his legs. The worm-like phallus that looks bruised, angry, swollen. Is this normal? Is he honestly attractive, to her? To just her?

This is so utterly private that not even the delicate soap scent can soothe him. The wrong kind of excitement dulls every heartbeat. He's never….this is the stupidest thing in his life. All of it.

The fever in his head threatens to make him faint. He can't _think_ of anything else. He swallows.

With choked hesitation, he touches himself. His skin down there is raw and thin, like old silk. It's awful for a moment. It – his penis – hurts, practically. It's so sensitive that he whimpers. Ben clenches his whole mouth tighter, looking grim.

He knows how this is supposed to work. He's heard about it. Don't ask him where, he just – _knows_. But he's suddenly overcome, buckling from the knowledge he is naked and vulnerable, and there are people he still doesn't trust onboard. Even in this cramped room, he can't hide.

This won't work. His hands are too… _his_. If he were to remember what her hands looked like…felt like.

She's touched him before. Soft, deft and sure, ready to pluck whatever she wanted, her long fingers are like his, and strong. They're more callused, too. He suspects in that tinkering, brilliant mind of hers, she's noticed this and called him a spoiled brat in her head. He'd let her call him whatever she wants if only she were here…

What would she do?

His mind betrays him, and the vision he asked to see – he shouldn't have asked – of Rey, his Rey, astride that blue-eyed _scoundrel's_ lap, sizzles across his eyes. She is sharp and on fire, all instinct and sinuous. Clothing and shadows peel away to reveal skin he hasn't seen before.

Below, his cock seems to twitch on its own. It actually burns. Ben sucks in breath between his teeth.

 _No. Think of – when you last fought her. She pounced on you._ _What would_ – he thinks in forbidden excitement. _What would you do with her if –_

Her eyes had blazed like an exotic animal's. She had the upper hand. Her wildness captivated him, even with his saber radiating at her neck. If only her hair had been down and…if she had stayed straddling him, he knows she would have made the first move, more boldly than had he had the guts to put his hands at her waist, begging with his eyes to just do _whatever_ she wanted, as long as it made him hurt and it made her come.

Sweat breaks through him, even in the 'fresher. Ben's breath stutters, palm pressed to imitate her warmth on his member. "Ughh." That stuff, pre-cum, leaks out of him, not fast enough. It swells inside so hotly that it's like venom.

He needs to do this faster. It feels awkward as he wraps his hand around his own penis. The fever in his head breaks and his blood rushes in places they hadn't before. It's a battle lust, driving him to go harder, faster –

 _Rey REY_ , his mind bellows. _Tell me, tell me where…I want you, I want this - I will do anything you ask please tell me – anything - !_

His hand clenches harder, choking his poor member. Eyes remain closed to ignore the water, running in rivulets down his body, desperately imagining him and Rey twined together. Her breath fanning across his face and sweetly pushing his hair back, gentle as the summer. Clawing at his clothes to come off, pulling at the waistband of his pants, shoving his chest down, pulling him under, like the fatal void of the sea.

She is power incarnate, dominating him with iron and steel. She is euphoric and so gentle, like in that dream of hers, in the forest, and when she seemed to wordlessly plead with him, to surrender to him, that he could weep right now at how fucking foolish he has been, to refuse her.

He'd run his hands up and down her back, suck on the power that emanated from her neck; hear her purr and moan like the echoes in her memory, when that other man touched her.

His blood churns until it rises, making his skin uncomfortably warm. His great chest expands. It's not wide enough to hold in the nervous, labored breaths, and his cock is ready to explode –

"Ahhhugghh!" he grunts, stomaching what could have been an even louder yell. Sweet release pours out of him. He won't look, not down. This part…the water cooling, with his skin, all makes it more stark and wrong.

When he thinks his breath is returned to normal, hunched over himself with his whole good arm tight from overuse, he opens his eyes.

It feels…not too disgusting. Not awful, but it's slick, like oil. He has a horrible thought that it won't wash off him, that as it dribbles out of his tip, the evidence of his mad lust in Rey's bedroom will be noticed ( _smelled_ ) by everyone.

 _Oh, Maker, please stop this_ , he begs.

The water is now dead cold, making him shiver. Very quickly, the brief ecstasy that possessed him now leaves him more confused and drawn.

 _Useless_. While Rey is missing, in the hands of a calculated Ren Knight, Ben Solo is…kriff, he can't even say the word, can he?

The shame advances tenfold into his mind. His guts twist. _Selfish. You haven't changed, have you? Still uncaring, what does she see in you?_

If only he could. He could show her how much she matters; how often, how many times in a day, he would die for her. She's so perfect and true, he craves to try and be close to her by bathing in her shower, using her soap and sleeping in her bed. _Sick, twisted idiot_.

It's too much; and what he learned, about Xolon's involvement, is too much. Ben shuts off the water and makes quick work of drying himself. In his haste, his elbow slams into the wall and he withholds a damning hiss.

 _You can't do this. You can't redeem yourself. You can never be good…not even by trying to save her._

The unspoken thought is so small, but it does enough. He's instantly triggered, inflamed with self-hatred and imploding big-time. His fist clenches, and in an instant it explodes, hitting the wall again and again and again, until his good arm hurts as much as the other healing one.

He howls, snarls out his failure. He wasn't there, with Rey. He should have been there instead of Namorath. He thought…doing what she would do, the right thing, would keep her safe. And he was mistaken. He made a terrible, foolish mistake.

Xolon will somehow die from all of this. If Rey wants to watch, she can. He'll find her and he'll take her someplace safe, where they will never have to fight anyone again.

These are little comforts and do nothing to soothe Ben as he slides down to the floor, unable to make it to the mattress. He doesn't deserve it.


	35. Chapter 35

The Call to the Light

By TheOneAndOnlySlayer

Chapter 35

Still in shock, Rey doesn't even protest at – well, everything – until she's dragged halfway back to her cell. That dank, rusty place. She's been used to crawling through small, metallic holes since she was left on Jakku. Still, the stench of sweat and fear (she doesn't need to use the Force to know it permeates everything here) makes her panic.

She came here for a reason. She chose to be here, even if she only saw why for a fleeting second.

Before she can attempt to memorize how they get back through the ship's halls, the Togruta shoves her against a doorjamb. "Cut it out, whatever you're doing."

 _She speaks_. Rey stubbornly ignores the way the woman's lightsaber clicks against her belt. It isn't hers, she's checked. Where is it, then?

Not a problem. There are near a dozen of them here, probably. She'll just snatch one of theirs for her escape plan.

There's no time to think of some comeback. She's kicked into her cell, right when the barrier is shut for a half-second before flashing on again.

Okay. Okay.

The others did their little torture games for what felt like hours. The whole time, Rey was kept down on her knees at blasterpoint. She shifted her knees from under her once – purely an innocent move – when she was shot with some electro-rod, leaving her shuddering on the ground for a few minutes. Her teeth still hurt from the aftershocks.

It hurt even more to hear the others scream and plea, all in varying dialects, to stop. Rey could have ended it all in ten, fifteen seconds. The Iktochi twins would have gone down first, then the nasty copper-skinned Zabrak female. Now, _that_ woman was something else – she could actually (and Rey might have just imagined this from the electro-jam) bring fire out of her hands. The woman actually held fireballs in her hand.

In that Zabrak, Rey had noticed, there was more emotion, a twist between hesitation and the hunger to prove herself to the Mirialan, than the mindless Iktochis. She was given a Sallustran female to "train": as the Zabrak sent shooting star-like fireballs circling the poor younger female, the Mirialan commanded the Sallustran to simply "stop" them.

If Rey had full command of the Force, maybe she could have done it. But the longer the Sallustran delayed, the closer the plumes came to her body. The poor girl ended up half-burnt, flapping desperately when her clothes caught fire.

Pity, guilt and indignation threaten to flare from her chest. She can't give in to her emotions now. She must be a Jedi and concentrate on the plan.

She counts the crew: The Togruta, who has the lightsaber. Rastro. He can snap people's necks. Iktochis -good at following orders. Training to be sadistic, but how far can they go? On their own, without their master watching?

The hooded female and the Cerean. Rey counts the guards who deposited her and the other captives into the other room: two humans, one shorter and wirier than her, and a larger man, probably as strong as the shirtless Twi'lek male. The Nautoloid probably has gills that can be hit, knock him out cold; she just has to remember where.

That's eleven, not including whatever crew keep the ship running. They'd have a skeletal crew, probably: just a pilot, co-pilot and an engineer. Then The Mirialan…

The Mirialan is a Knight of Ren. A Force-Sensitive. All that must be measured is how strong he is with it.

In the year since Rey was brought onto the First Order battlefield, she had never heard of a Mirialan Knight. Ben would have…well, _Kylo Ren_ would have said something. The knights she and Luke had defeated would not have been sent to kill her if they weren't good enough. Ben's given plenty of information to Leia, which had tricked through to Rey somehow. _Never_ had he mentioned a Ren Knight who had gone off to search for new Force-Sensitives as recruits to their cause. After all, how many times had the former Kylo Ren gone off about how Rey was the best "challenge" he had had in a long time?

In any case, this Mirialan's dangerous, and calm. He's so collected and in control that he's like stone. He's like, the opposite of Kylo Ren.

Ben.

Rey inwardly softens. It's a cross between guilt and assurance that he _will_ be looking for her. He'll be tracking down Rastro's whereabouts. He's with Poe, and Poe will contact Leia – and if Finn gets wind of how stupid new way Rey's decided to risk her life, he'll help too.

Rey knows, as desolate as her situation is, that her boys and her boss will find some way to get her back.

In the meantime…

Her thigh pulses uncomfortably. Her body ought to be pushing the foreign object out, but it seems to fit as much as a botched operation allows such a thing. Rey needs to cut the Force dampener device out if she wants to escape soon.

She'll need to acquire a sharp object.

Bending down to inspect the sealed incision, Rey takes her thumbs and gently presses down. Yes – yes. There is something uncomfortably foreign in there. It nudges against her bone, and she has to wince at the sensation.

Then – something Rey should otherwise blame on lack of sleep, and _food_ – the tendons around her bone are brushed, like hair against skin. Something – whatever was put into her, it stretches. It _wiggles_.

Force - ! Rey's hands retract as if burned. She's losing it. She stares open-mouthed at her leg, half-expecting something to rise under the skin, but the area stills again. Overwhelmed by the strangeness, a headache breaks through her. She has to swallow and take a few deep breaths, lean her body against the bone-cold durasteel to reign in the last of her alertness.

Speaking of food. Rey's eyes struggle to look for the small, hand-sized window at eye level. To her surprise, there's another at the bottom. Presumably to be given food.

 _Food_. Rey's leg is forgotten as she shuffles over to the gap. It's barely four inches tall by ten inches across. It's not exactly an open space. There's something like invisi-plasma mesh throb to show its presence. If Rey touches it, she'll probably be shocked.

Rey gets her eyes as close to that gap as she can to peer through. The row of cells across from her doesn't look to be guarded by anyone. She can't see very well from the doorway to the rest of the ship. Perhaps the traffickers are that confident no one can get out of these cells: the captives are weak from the abuse and malnutrition.

A few taps is all Rey allows. If there are guards nearby –

Three quick taps, against the floor. Nothing.

She does it again. This time she can faintly hear people – on the other side, in threadbare clothes against the floor, shifting like she did. The other captives.

She tries Huttese. " _Hello_?"

Nothing. Perhaps whispers amongst each other, too petrified to respond.

 _Oh, please don't be scared. I'm here with you. We'll be all right._

"Pateesa – "

"Cut it out, they'll hear you."

It's someone speaking Basic. It's tired and…Rey could be mistaken, but it sounds like someone who is used to telling people off.

Rey's bristled reaction from behind the wall confirms this. "And they'll beat me, not you," she points out.

"And they'll starve us, so shut the fuck up," the voice berates.

Rey's mouth goes completely slack. She's not sure what she just heard. Everyone…the other captives on the ship have appeared so forlorn, like lost souls adrift like ghosts who have lost their way. There's no fighting spirit among them.

This one speaks with an edge that lies buried, waiting to be stomped on, just to get to bite something.

"Maybe you can lose a few pounds," Rey finds herself teasing the other girl. It's how Poe and the other cocky-brained Resistance fighters got Rey to open up, after Finn was in the hospital.

The jab has the expected reaction, and on the other side, movement reveals long, sweeping dark hair, a sharp face and…and pale green skin –

"Are you fucking stupid?" the girl hisses carefully.

Rey starts. Inky black eyes stare back at her, sharp with attention and wit. Another Mirialan. She's young, probably Rey's age. She even sounds like a bratty college student.

Inwardly stamping down the bubbling, buzzing hope, Rey blinks hard to clear her vision. She must not get her hopes up. "Maybe that's what we've got in common. You don't seem like a slave to me," she muses quietly. "Too…outspoken."

The Mirialan girl huffs. "Where are you from, Coruscant?"

"Something like that." It's still dark, but there's enough slices of light from indistinguishable parts of the chamber to see the girl on the other side gazes at her with as much curiosity. She sizes Rey up like she anticipates her to promise something new, some sort of hope that hadn't been allowed in here before.

"I'm Rey," Rey says quietly.

The light, which hadn't been so generous before, shifts onto the girl's jade skin now, displaying crosses of her facial tattoos and dark lips. Rey realizes she hasn't seen Niall in his own true form. He is a Mirialan, after all, when he isn't a changeling. Those blue eyes… they would have been startling and gorgeous on his daughter.

These black orbs must have seen something. "Lorra," she answers. She doesn't have a clue what that means.

Here. Here is where Rey's heart rests, finally, overjoyed at the sound of the Mirialan girl say her name six feet across from her on the floor.

Now Rey understands. The edges of her purpose suddenly fill in. The frigid, despairing cell warms from under her. The hope returns, and despite the cold and the near-impossible odds of escape creeping in, Rey feels herself smile.

sssssssssssss

Ben slept for a few hours before the _Falcon_ approaches the _Boshtar_. Retaining a sense of professionalism, Poe pounds on Rey's door to get up.

Ben feels…rested. It doesn't seem right. Sleep has always been a simple respite before his next mission. He's sprawled across Rey's cot, yet he doesn't want to get out of it. The guilt and heightened confusion he experienced hours ago from _molesting_ himself can clamor into his head any minute.

Rising, Ben shuts down as much of his…earlier arousal deep into some cavernous well. He dons his clothes and heads to the main cabin.

Niall is there, stirring some concoction and giving Ben a nod. "You hungry, mate?"

Surprised at the invitation, Ben nods. "Yes."

"Good, help yourself. There's some soli grains in the cooker there."

Glowering, Ben grabs a bowl full of dull-looking oatmeal and begins to shovel it down.

Poe comes in. Ben notices the split-second change of the purposeful stride switch to tentative, but the bright-faced pilot sits down across from Ben.

The Jedi ignores both as he scarfs down breakfast. That _thing_ , that organ between his legs, remains stubbornly, thankfully, dormant (more like shriveled, since it's so damn cold). A part of Ben still wants to crawl back into bed and away from these men.

Thinking intensely of Rey's breathlessness in her voice ( _more than just Chiroh and Lorra_ , she had said), Ben is lost until Poe has to clear his throat. "Solo. What are we dealing with here?"

The spoon is halfway to Ben's lips. He sighs and sets it down. "The man who's leading the trafficking ship is a Ren Knight. Xolon Ren works with Rastro. Rastro…I don't know how his fixation on Force-sensitives started, but he's searched for them and delivered them to Xolon. For training, it seems like." He stares darkly at a faint dent in the table, unable to think just exactly what his idea of training entails. "Apparently my Uncle had been trying to track them down years ago."

Next to Poe, Niall nods. "Right. Like Jiroh's family."

Poe leans forward. "Do you know this for sure?"

"There are two knights that Xolon claimed he groomed for Snoke. One of them is still alive – a female named Kezal Ren."

Niall cuts to it. "How dangerous is this guy?"

 _He's a monster,_ Ben wants to say. _Worse than_ …."He's…not many Ren Knights are as strong in the Force as Rey, or me. Xolon Ren isn't…as attuned. But he more than makes up for it in other ways."

Poe nods dumbly whereas Niall just shrugs. "O-okay. So, do you know where he is, usually?"

"Xolon had disappeared on some private service to Snoke. I wasn't expected to know his whereabouts."

Poe snorts. It's quiet, the most polite Ben can expect from the man, but his disappointment is evident.

"And you can't…look for him? In your head?" When Niall leans closer, Ben recoils – the thief of all trades has smoked something, probably that Roanbush his friends grow. Maker, how can Ben summarize the kind of man Xolon Ren is?

He inhales. "He's very meticulous. He's secretive, far more from any unassuming person I've known before. He's good at protecting his mind. Even I couldn't get inside. If I couldn't do that standing _next_ to him, I can't try to extract his location from light-years away."

They're both stumped. "Will a regular comm-link call do?"

Poe sniffs his disagreement, turning to Niall. "What, are you serious? Just give this guy a call? Say 'hey, give me back my…" Poe reaches a few seconds for the word "Jedi friend."

"No, you moof," Niall retorts. He turns to Ben. "Play him up. Deceive him with some sob story about you needing some help after turning cloak on your Knights of Ren gig."

Ben almost laughs. "You cannot be serious."

"What other choice we got? How many Rodian cargo runners we gonna search for? We don't have a destination, this ship of theirs apparently never stays in one space too long, like all other traffic ships, only this one's carrying violent Jedi-to-bes. Even with the two Star Destroyers and your Resistance, we'll never find it."

Ben's expression sours, hands clutching the still-warm bowl. Niall is right about not having any other choice, but the remaining one is very poor. Xolon is an expert in deception. He'll anticipate Ben to try and assault Xolon's mind. He has anticipated Ben's connection with Rey, which is why a Force-dampener must be behind Rey's silence.

Will he expect a desperate Ben Solo to ask for help? Perhaps…perhaps he could still be _Kylo Ren_. Maybe Xolon doesn't even _know_ of Ben's betrayal. Maybe he could convince Xolon it's all been a ruse to get closer to his mother and the Resistance.

No. That definitely won't work. It is the stupidest idea he's ever considered.

Ben glowers at the impasse. Hatred, an old friends and close confidant, bubble with memories. Xolon Ren used to smirk wordlessly at Kylo Ren's longer, monk-like robes. Xolon always wore a thick leather jerkin to withstand space weather. Nothing ever seemed to rouse the Mirialan – he was always like stone, calm and impenetrable. His abilities in the Force were not pronounced like Ben's, but that never seemed to bother him. It was simply the way of the Force. He was…always loyal. Clinging to it like a ghost. Though his temperament was a far deeper element to his persona than Kylo's thrashing temper, the man had an appetite for violence as if he tended to it like a farmer or weaver. His patience was remarkable, his tact shadowy and effortless. He seemed to rise out of nowhere, like fog.

"Look…" Niall hesitates. "It's not like we have the time to completely go through the entire slave trade; if these people have made a career in avoiding detection."

Something about Niall's observation make Ben pause, a thought dangling right above him. But of course:

"We just liberated, what, eight thousand Resistance members?" he asks them. "Eight hundred First Order officers and personnel?"

"I doubt any of the Resistance people have connections with the slave industry," Niall argues smartly.

"The Nakorkian the _Boshtar_ is named after is a smuggler."

"Well, then, what about the First Order schmucks? We can't just drop them off at the nearest Resistance base to be babysat."

Ben blinks. "Let me talk to them. Get them to help us find her."

Poe's reaction is so negative he stumbles out of his seat. He can just imagine it: Ben Solo-Kylo Ren the murderer and traitor and unpredictable bomb of a man in front of his former _loyal subjects_.

"You think I'm just gonna – !"

Whatever half-serious threat Poe tries to promise, Ben is already out of his seat.


	36. Chapter 36

The Call to the Light

By TheOneAndOnlySlayer

Chapter 36

 _Trigger warnings: graphic depictions of violence and torture. If anyone feels more terminology is needed, please let me know._

Rey and Lorra don't talk much that night. What's there to talk about? Other than how long Lorra has been held captive, Lorra isn't able to share much.

Rey has an idea. The friend of hers, Fordo: Lorra hasn't said his name. Rey hopes he isn't dead.

"Why did they take you?" she pries gently.

The jade sliver of Lorra's skin is all Rey can see on the other side. She's quiet for a long time. "I can change. M-my face."

"Oh," Rey says. "That's cool."

"What about you?" Rey isn't sure how to articulate her own reason. "Why d'you have your own cell?"

The ache in her leg throbs suddenly. "I can...I have the Force."

There's something like an unimpressed sound from Lorra, but Rey must be mistaken. "So does everyone here. I swear, it's like everyone's obsessed."

Curious about the way she shrugs off the Force ( _it's become part of me, like music, like family_ ), Rey thinks of what to say next. "I'm with the Resistance."

Lorra sharpens. The quiet loudly reveals Lorra's willingness to hope. "Are...are you here to rescue us?"

Kriff. Can't promise her that. "Um. Not exactly. I kind of...got caught by accident."

The crush makes Rey's stomach churn with guilt. "But - ! I haven't tried yet. I dunno. It takes time."

That seems to be enough. Lorra whispers a good night, and Rey decides to spend the last vestiges of the evening moving. Exercising. She meditates, focuses on the pain in her body, and tries to channel it into a dull hum. Her cramped exercises barely aid her through fifteen minutes. She's asleep the minute she crawls into a huddle against the wall.

Ssssssssssss

The clamoring and buzzing of energy shields signify they've come back again. Rey's eyes snap open. She has to scuttle against the wall, preparing for some beast of a guard to haul her out of her cell.

But they ignore her. Blinking, Rey watches the grunts assess the other cells of captives. Some of them, including the large Twi'lek, look at Rey hesitantly before going on with their business.

What's going on?

"Hey." Rey's first word is a low murmur. Approaching the front of the energy field, Rey looks for the Togruta and shouts. "Hey! Come on, get me out!"

The Togruta comes forward, brandishing the lightsaber that she has no business having. Rey won't be intimidated. She moves to face the Togruta directly, centimeters apart from the barrier.

"Come on, take me to him, your master," she spits out. "Let him teach me a few lessons. Maybe," she adds, wanting so badly to get a rise out of this silent one, "Maybe I'll teach you a few things."

She's baiting. The words feel like venom, bitter and threatening. Luke would chide her for her aggression. She stamps down the guilt. She's a victim right now. So long as she's powerless from the Force, the Jedi Code will not save her.

The Togruta considers her, narrowing her own predatory eyes. When she walks away, the energy field separating Rey from the others becomes nonexistent –

Until Rey touches it, out of instinct. She saw one of the captives' faces turn around – Lorra's.

 _No!_

The power of the energy field is so strong that it shocks Rey. The sensation is so potent and alarming that for a moment, before she loses consciousness, she feels like her teeth are bleeding.

sssssssssssss

Sometime later, Rey isn't sure if she's dreaming or hallucinating from hunger, but she's wrapped snugly next to someone. It's a large, strong form, coiled neatly around her. His breath fans against her hair – sometimes, the back of her neck, which tickles.

Oh, she could sigh at her mind, conjuring this one thing that can comfort her. It's always been of someone holding her while she sleeps. At first, these dreams were of her mother, her parents. Then they changed, to Finn or Poe. Ben's grand form is unmistakable, even in a vague sensation like this.

She's having trouble imagining what other color than black that he would wear. The lack of light blends his clothing with his hair.

Rey reaches a hand to pet it. She's so warm, and it's so cold on the durasteel floor, but his hair feels so nice. Her own hands have been tucked in some kind of prayer form, between her chest and his broad furnace of a body.

When one of them breaches out into the open air, the stark chill erases the sensation. All of it – his phantom body, the sounds of his sleeping breaths, all gone.

Rey wishes she could have seen his face.

Ssssssssssssssssss

The next time Rey wakes up, the cells are empty. She can't tell how long she's been unconscious…or how long the captives have been "taught." It makes her frayed with worry again. The worry alone makes her get up, spend the best of her time behind the field trying to get stronger.

She glares at the energy field. She must not be stupid touching it again. She needs a tool, something to countereffect the high concentration of the plasma. The next time Rey's anywhere near a crony, she must be alert enough to pick off a tool of some kind. Something small enough to tuck inside her thin jumpsuit.

When she looks down, there's a lump of something. Rey scurries over, an animal again sniffing for scraps. When her hands reach the thing, she almost barks in laughter. It's water bread. Water-dried food portions. The same damned stuff she'd fed on for fifteen bloody years on Jakku.

How wonderful.

As she scarfs it down, she's not sure if she's grateful to see them again or not. She hasn't eaten in two days. She certainly doesn't plan on getting used to them.

She tries to save half and can't. Hunger makes her vision blurry, her mind…adrift, like on water. She needs to get herself together. Thinking of Ben…Ben in the tower, in that gutted, soaking stone castle on their seaside haven – when he was alone with his tortured, tearing mind and the ghosts of all the dead….

Ben Solo somehow got up and taught her something about herself. It's enough to help clear her head.

She gets ready to exercise. She'll stretch, meditate, then strength-condition.

Sssssssssssssssss

The lessons continue. Some of the captives have forced themselves to accept this form of training. They begin to look at the Togruta, the Iktochi twins, and even the master, the Mirialan, for guidance instead of in fear. Some of the teenagers and children even look at it as a source of play, fighting each other with far more aggression than normal. Bare knuckles evolve into sharp sticks for, presumably, lightsaber training. Stones must be lifted in the air, or risk getting hit by it from the other Force-user.

There are some, though, that are too paralyzed to join in on the violence. Some that are hesitant to pick up a stone or weapon, and dumbly shake their heads. One time a young woman shook so much from being shouted at that she made the objects on the floor shake.

The master had seized a hooded woman he kept close and dragged her to the shaking woman. He demanded she tell the woman to focus on her fear, turn it into anger, or suffer.

Another time, the Togruta female had circled around a teenager who spoke Huttese, and kept hitting him until he could not get up. She kept telling him to stop her, with the Force. He never did.

This is maybe the twentieth day Lorra has been held out here, among the others. She's kept her eyes closed or right to the ground every time they are brought out to train. She hates this. Every second of it. She can't scream at them to stop, can't fight her way out. The only form of defense is to pretend, so badly, that they can't see her. She is invisible. She is nothing.

But they pick on her eventually.

sssssssssss

They come back long after the time Rey's given up on push-ups. Battery acid pumping in her stomach has made her crawl into a miserable ball.

"You missed _class_ today." Lorra's tired voice was gravelly, from shouting, no less. "Bitch."

Rey's reminded of Niall again. The shared dry humor makes her smile. At least Lorra's okay.

"Was it…how was it?"

She hears nothing for a while. Rey wonders if anyone else understands Basic. Some of them must, if the Mirialan speaks in Basic.

Her answer comes in the voice of a male, a teenager from the sound of it with a thick Huttese accent.

"They took the old Cerean."

sssssssssss

In the morning, the grunts finally come for her. Only her.

This is not a good sign, and yet Rey feels satisfied. Finally, an audience with the Mirialan. Stuck in that cell for over a day's cycle, she hasn't forgotten that he's dangerous. At least that's what she thinks.

On the way there is a certain pang of...less heaviness, like the weight of her stupidity being here is lifted from her shoulders. It's the closest thing to serenity since the Force left her. _Was taken from her_. It's gone the second she's led down another hallway.

She's admitted into the "training room." It's mostly empty except for…

The Cerean. Rey nearly mistook the suspended mass in the middle of the air. Stuck in that rigid position, it couldn't possibly be a living thing. But one longer look at the elongated skull, the frail hair, and it makes Rey stop in her tracks.

Not good.

Apprehensive, she's unable to keep walking. The grunts shove her forward, making her closer to the suspended Cerean, the living plaything amongst these animals.

The poor man's neck is pulled as far back as it can without snapping. His mouth isn't lined up normally – his jaw has been broken. Rey's so shocked and horrified at the sight that she doesn't notice the Mirialan nearby.

"He refuses to learn. That Cerean mind of his is an untapped supernova of Force power. He's as stubborn as you are, though nowhere nearly as defiant. If he requires a gentler hand, then his life may be in yours."

He was kneeling in the shadows when Rey startled at his voice. He rises and approaches Rey, coming too close.

"Make him speak. Here."

His hands are gloved, but the softness of the leather at her temple is unwelcome. Rey's eyes are ice, astonished at the request. The Mirialan backs away in response and circles them, making his challenge known as he returns out of sight.

It's been so cold on this ship. Her feet have stung. Now, her neck sweats.

How can she make a man speak through the Force? His eyes are radiant with pain. It's so pitiful, watching this poor, poor man try to move his mouth, when he's already in so much agony. He's drowning in it, slowly. If his pain were in tangible waves, Rey would be afraid to breathe it in.

He could die if Rey can't make him talk.

"It's okay. You're all right. My – my name is Rey." His eyes are boiling, smelting durasteel. Rey tries not to look away. "What's yours?"

The Cerean casts a wary glance over to their audience in the shadows.

"It's okay, you can tell me. No, no, not – like that," she corrects gently, watching him try and move his mouth.

"It's all right," she whispers. Only he can hear her sensitivity to this moment, no one else. "Tell me here, in my head. What's your name?"

He tries to shake his head, eyes closing, giving in to impossibility so quickly.

"Just – just – "

" _Feel it. Feel it in the air. Hear the way your mind forms the words on your lips, and let it go."_

 _The reminder of this moment is gentle as a fog. Rey was learning how to do this herself, and Luke – gentle, patient, penitent Luke – sat there like a tree near a dangerous spark. Rey was sure she couldn't do anything she had done on Starkiller. She had done those Jedi tricks on pure luck and adrenaline, and now –_

" _Don't be afraid. Open your mind."_

" – Open your mind," Rey tells him. It was Luke's patience, his even belief that a stranger could handle the Force. She had done things based on what she thought were fairy tales, surely she can encourage the Cerean to do the same.

Minutes go by. Each one that passes feels like an hour.

He musters a moan, low and thin in the air between them.

"No- no, try thinking of it. Try telling me without - "

The sick, nauseous crack of breaking bones rob Rey of breath, more than the sight of the Cerean's neck twisting. Rey jumps back, horrified at the sight.

No. The old man is a shell, truly a cast-away doll, looking more like he was left behind in an invisible tangle of strings than ever before.

It's sickening. Her knees weaken and her mouth goes dry, fluttering unsteadily. She almost vomits.

The Mirialan had been watching all of this carefully and decided his pupil's fate before Rey could try again. He gets up from his knees, addressing the other shapes in the dark. "Rastro, next time, don't bother with anyone who is too old."

Rastro's loping gait comes forward. "I told you, his Force signature was strong. He coulda been a Jedi, one of Skywalker's - "

It doesn't matter what they say next. Rey collapses to her knees. The Cerean is dead. Dead and empty. Useless.

Oh Force. Oh, Gods, get her out of here. He's dead. He was - Rey didn't understand. He had the Force. They just killed him.

The last, pitiful amount of faith in the Force she had left was spent on this man. Rey feels the walls closing in. Shutting her down.

This is madness. This has been a death trap and she had no idea.

In a sudden flash of madness, Rey gets up, uncoordinated in her clamoring emotions, and charges at them. The Mirialan.

She should have just killed him with her bare _hands_ \- !

"Murderer! Coward!" Fists and fingernails are her only weapons. She forgets how weak her body is, even after a few days. The swings and kicks barely have any effect on the Mirialan's calm, infuriatingly unbothered attitude. He blocks her with punishing ease, making her attack all the harder.

The others don't even rush to defend their master.

Rey already feels her vision go dizzy when the Mirialan Knight grabs her by the throat, lifting her off her feet. Rey's fingers sting, though they claw again at the man's grip.

She's thrown across the room. The Force lifts her, brushes against her.

Rey hopes she blacks out. She, too, is the coward. She cannot face this reality.

Sssssssssss

Ben hadn't quite noticed that the _Falcon_ is docked somewhere. He passes right through the main cabin to the ramp, noticing the traitor boy, Terric, in the bunk room.

The sight of that datapad and the secrets it has spread across the galaxy awaken ideas of punishment. Ben had pushed it away out of necessity. Now he has a chance to pounce.

"You."

The hybrid shoots up, incensed that he is disturbed and has to look _again_ at Ben's face.

Ben steps in and summons the datapad into his hand, pushing Terric back to his seat with the other.

"Get your hands off of me – "

"Quiet. You should be more sorry for what you've done. When the First Order released my photograph, I could have managed moving around in secrecy. But you...you think you're the good guy here?"

He feels more dangerous than he ever has been with Rey, when they were fighting. "You brought my _mother_ into this. What did she do to deserve – "

"You killed my sister."

Ben's knuckles clench around Terric's shirt. Jarie. Terric's anger is dulled, for once, by mentioning her.

"I did."

Plum eyes glare at him. "You don't even care – "

"I do. Jarie was…a friend. I thought it was right to fight her. To kill her. She was the first person I killed that night."

It's the truth. He hates it. Jarie was so strong and overpowered him. She was one of the few who hadn't harassed or laughed at him. She usually gave him a chance in combat rounds to prove himself.

That night, Ben hadn't even expected to kill anyone.

Xolon had been there. Ben had been waiting for…the others. The other Knights of Ren.

As Terric deflates, Ben shakes him up again. "You have sources. Connections. I need you to have them look for a Cambrian-class Rodian ZX49-Delta cargo ship. Don't tell them why, just have them look for it."

He doesn't wait for Terric's reply, instead exiting the _Falcon_ where Poe and his second-in-command, Zaropf, and Kelys are in discussion.

Zaropf speaks first. "What's the plan, Solo? We can't allow these eight hundred officers to just work for us and use our computer systems."

"Yes we can," Ben counters sternly. Although he may be right. "Let me talk to them. My loyalty's been announced across the Holonet, and all they want to do is avoid execution. If we tell them to help us look for a Jedi, it's less treasonous than attacking a First order base."

They don't look convinced.

"You've spoken with General Organa. What has she said?"

"She's briefed her command on the Rodian ship to bring it into Resistance custody, but other than that…" Poe's voice trails off.

Ben understands. In all but name, they're on their own.

Ben feels betrayed, on Rey's part. His own mother, the woman Rey's only experienced semi-parenthood, has left them on their own.

"And what has she said about the First Order prisoners?"

Kelys shakes her head. "Under normal circumstances, we would process them as our own prisoners of war near headquarters. But the most we've ever captured at a time has been…Fifty? We don't have the manpower to just keep a hundred people, let alone eight hundred."

Next to her, Poe is silent. In his mind – he practically bleeds the image – Finn is addressing a sea of white helmets.

Instantly, Ben rounds on him. "Finn. What has he done?"

"How - ?" Poe drops the questions as soon as he realizes Ben can read his mind.

"The Stormtroopers. Was he successful?"

Poe nods slightly. "He's…gone on his own with BB-8. He's gone undercover to reach a First Order communication channel and upload anti-propaganda messages. I've already told Leia to send him here immediately."

Good. This is good. If ever there was a time Ben would need the former Stormtrooper, it's now. They have the potential manpower to spread out and search for Xolon's ship, and Rey. What they truly need now is information on where they are.

He looks around the hanger. Newly-freed Resistance members roam the area with random tasks. They look as rag-tag as when Rey and Finn ran through the Starkiller forest.

"These Star Destroyers, the people running them – are they wearing First Order uniforms?"

"Not a lot – "

"Have every single First Order prisoner exchange their uniforms for civilian clothes. Categorize all of them through DNA and facial recognition." It will be a long process, but it would help prevent First Order personnel from considering betrayal.

"Now," he adds. "Separate the highest-ranking officers. I'll deal with them. Their loyalty may be set in stone, but the ones you need to focus on are those who have families. Who have children." He should know from his mother's devotion alone, how far parents will go for their children.

Poe steps forward, concerned. "We're not planning on executing any loyalists, are we?"

Ben looks down at him. It's…efficient. Even on a Star Destroyer, they're still vulnerable. They can't risk any loose ends.

"I doubt anyone stationed at Namorath were any more dangerous than your Resistance fighters sent there. It was a dead-end promotion area. No one other than Mantine was willing to risk lives."

He can't believe he's admitting this. "These people…I'm sure most of them have sworn allegiance with enthusiasm, but none of them have proven it as devotedly as Hux…or myself."

Poe absorbs this, then presses on. "But now you're thinking of asking them to betray that. They know, better than some of us, that the First Order is powerful and doesn't take betrayal kindly."

Ben smirks heavily. "And yet I'm still here."


	37. Chapter 37

The Call to the Light

Chapter 37 Complete

By TheOneAndOnlySlayer

Finally, an update Happy belated holiday seasons and 2017.

Warning: mentions of torture, kidnapping, mistreatment, mental manipulation

ssssss

It's as if every possible force on that ship seeks to drive Rey's hope to the ground.

Since the Cerean was murdered, Rey's been dragged into some gray spot, too clouded and obstinate for any sense of hope or practicality to pierce through. She tries to tell herself, _observe, store away, plan, escape – patience_. But the heaviness of failure weighs her down.

If Rey were powerful, free of the device under her skin, chaining her to the exact type of helplessness...she knows she'd tear this whole place down and bring the captives with her to a free world. It is often the only thing she can hold onto during this madness. But then the imaginative look on Luke's face, after all the training he's spared for her, makes Rey muddled and tormented in confusion.

How Luke Skywalker dealt with this for years after…after Ben turned…Rey thinks she can only just understand now. It's unbearable. Still, she is a Jedi. The Force is still there, inside her, despite the inhibitor pinched against her nerves.

So she waits. And thinks.

Every day, for hours, the others are brought out and prodded forth like cattle, awaiting the strange mixture of torture and Dark Side lessons.

They take Rey sometimes, but only to watch. The Togruta struts around them all, inspecting progress and ready to pounce when someone fails. They force the younger ones to fight each other, with staffs. If they fail somehow, their teachers round them and shock them with their vibro-blades. They train the others to sense the Force. The Mirialan is trailed behind by the hooded female figure, who serves as a translator of sorts, whose soft Huttese instructs them to harness the Force. These are archaic, dangerous instructions.

Rey notices the ones who are starting to show potential in the Force. If only she could help them understand it, not be afraid of it, to help them overcome the prisons their keepers have designed – both in this ship and in their head.

Rey protested their instructions at first, but has been prodded, struck, and smothered to stay quiet. So, she watches the younger, stronger boys first. Boys naturally lean towards power, and often the cruelty that follows. It's also the quieter ones who are unusually good at hiding their abilities.

At first Rey saw one girl, a ten-year-old alien levitate something in her hand, but she is taken away. Rey hasn't seen her since. She assumes the ones who show their abilities live on another side of the ship, like the Iktochis.

When Rastro, the stray dog, is there, he is not subtle at all. He's obvious just breathing, but as he sidles over to the Togruta. Rey zeroes in on how he juts out his hips and curves his body towards here; how she not only shows her disgust, but looks over to the Mirialan…hoping he would see? Looking away toward a much preferred lover?

Rey can't help but carefully glue lidded eyes to them. She's almost greedy in her disgust of them.

The Mirialan watches Rey, too. Rey knows this, because any time she's brought out, she is surrounded by three guards, all armed with vibro-blades now.

They know she will try to interfere. She managed to get to her feet once, to stop the Huttese teenager from being hit too hard after a mistake. The Force held her back so tightly that she almost passed out, trying to throw herself to protect him.

They keep _her_ pinned down...but not the others. Not the other victims who are too scared to even look up. They will never try to help each other, save for stifled whimpers.

Rey still doesn't know for sure if these Force-users can read minds like Ben can. She's thankful that it takes more than raw discipline and displays of power to do that. Knowing for sure that these Dark-siders cannot read _her_ mind may be the only advantage she has.

When any of them approach Lorra, the prettiest one of them all…It is these times when Rey has to hold everything back, drive her mind to its depths of mental training; Lorra may be caustic, but she's still innocent, and young. Her red-hot naivete makes her, as the Mirialan said, like a star that must burn out.

Ssssssssssssssssssss

"Sweet child."

The Mirialan doesn't pay much attention to Lorra, not often. When he does, though….Oh, kriff, he's looking right at her. His feet are right in front of her, brushing against her knees.

Lorra's eyes shoot over to Rey. Lorra's never seen so much caution against a captive before; all those vibro-blades.

And when _he_ squats down to her eye level – to guide her chin upward with his leather gloves –

Lorra's faint, shuddering. _Keep him away, away, I'm not here…_

"You have been given a gift, don't you see?"

Lorra is so frigid with fear and defiance that she can't even open her mouth.

The fingers on her chin tighten. "Speak."

"Mmghf," she grunts. "It's – I hate it."

"Hate it?" he speaks so gently, like a father. Unconsciously, Lorra clings to it. " _Hate_ it? Why?"

The tears finally come. She hates herself, curses this body and her father for giving this to her. But then, would they have killed her? Is this the only thing keeping her alive?

"Tell me why," he demands sternly.

"Because - !" Lorra struggles. Any wrong word could make her hurt. She's terrified of hurting so much that she thinks she will die from the feeling alone.

"It's a curse," she tells him finally.

The fake sympathy he offers is so real that Lorra accepts it, anything to not get hurt. "No, my dear," the Mirialan says. "Losing your arm or leg is a curse. This…this is a blessing from gods."

The fingers holding her chin reach to stroke her hair, her bruised cheek.

 _Get him away from me get him AWAY –_

Her forehead is brought to him. He kisses it. "You are beautiful in a thousand ways. Now. If you want to stay that way…turn your face into mine."

Lorra stops breathing. She considers it. She can do it; she's terrified of the result. It's a border she cannot cross.

"Why don't you teach a real Jedi instead?"

Behind them, Rey's challenge is soft and brittle in the stale, sweaty air. Lorra is too shaken to be thankful for Rey's interference on her behalf; she can sense that everyone is looking at her, and their cruel master.

Vibro-blades dance their fatal shimmering light a hair's breadth from Rey's neck. "I'm a fast learner. Stop wasting your time with these broken people and let me show you how strong I am!"

The Mirialan measures her, hands behind his back in a mockery of a scholar. He's thinking, and it makes everyone hold their breath.

But he will not strike today. "All in good time, scavenger. You're not ready yet."

Rey's teeth glint in her frustration. "When. Is. My time?"

ssssssssssssss

Building an escape plan is taking longer than Rey thought.

She can't risk...well, fuck, where does Rey start? All passages to the main corridors of the ship are blocked. She doesn't recognize the make and model, based on the interior and even the hum of this engine. Rey had stopped fighting to escape just as the three goons place her back in her cell, to conserve energy. Her jailors had caught on, and began to incite her into a fight. Exhausted and starving, Rey doesn't last on her feet very long.

When she wakes up, there's not much to talk about with Lorra. Rey's sure as hell not going to tell her of any escape plan. Her head hurts enough that conversation is muted, ringing, and useless.

Overconfidence, blind trust...whatever made her think she could _let_ these scumbags of the universe take her, it's barely there, flickering.

sssssssssss

The days Rey is left alone in her cell are the worst. Failure gnaws at her. All she needs is a pick, a small sharp object, to dig into the energy field stabilizers. To cut through her leg and remove the wiggling Force-dampener. To stab into the Togruta's neck.

She stares at the energy field again. An electric overload may be what she needs…if the lines the cut where that Force-dampener is right against the field, maybe she can damage whatever's inside her.

Okay, she's been electrocuted here before – about three times? But not directly on her leg.

She just has to try and stay conscious after she does it.

Ssssssssssssss

An hour later, she wakes up on the floor. She tests the Force. Nothing.

 _Fuck_!

Sssssssssssssssss

The next time she's given water bread, she breaks half of it and lines up the flat surface against the field. If it cauterizes, maybe it'll turn brittle.

It incinerates and blisters her hand.

 _Fucking SHIT mother of -_

Ssssssssssssss

The Cerean has been dead for three day cycles and Rey still has no escape plan. No tools.

She studies the different cronies: the male Twi'lek, the Togruta slut, the male bearded bat-faces and the Nautoloid.

Something's different. The Togruta is wearing an earring. A very large, obnoxious spike.

If only she wasn't on the _other_ side of the energy field.

ssssssssssssssss

She decides to speak to the others.

In whispered Huttese and Basic, she asks if anyone has a utensil. She lies and says she has been given fruit and needs to peel the skin.

A chorus of reedy hushes admonish Rey for causing unwanted attention.

"Please – "

"No!" whispers from down the hall beg.

Rey's stomach roars. Her head feels heavy and she has to purse her lips shut to stave off one more wave of lightheaded helplessness.

Later, she tries to gently coax them into a lesson from her.

"You don't have to hurt with it," she coos. "It won't hurt you. Whatever they tell you, they're wrong. It can be used for good. It _should_ be used for good – "

Rey continues as long as she can, until she can't deny they're trying to block out her voice.

She sighs. Talking of escape might scare them too much. This is getting nowhere. She would rather sleep.

Ssssssssssss

When there's time (more importantly, when her despair isn't so thick), Rey continues with her exercises. Thinking gives her a headache. Stretching and arm exercises help balance it.

What is the Mirialan waiting for? He doesn't want to teach her, yet. He said she was a star that could burn out, just with time. In all this, he's busy training, conditioning his little fighters through fear and abuse. Stupid and sickening.

She worries, since the others are quiet and unwilling to share anything with her, that it's working.

Are they worth saving?

 _Of course they are,_ she tells herself. If Ben was among these monsters, once…

She thinks of Finn. Finn, always kind and true. If any one of these poor people are as innocent and good as him, if there was a way to have been able to pluck him out of the First Order, Rey would claw her way through to him. She would do it.

Ssssssssssssssss

She thinks in the dark, as tears of frustration pour out, _I have to save them. I have to try…_

 _I have to help them._

Sssssssss

She dreams again. She thinks vaguely of Lorra and Niall together, swearing up a storm. She sees Chiroh hurriedly speaking in Huttese, ecstatic and rapid as he bundles his family together – the sweet woman, Jirah, and the boy Joah.

She imagines Finn and his serious, steady expression, and the way it switches instantaneously to a wild grin. Poe is not far behind, always his and Rey's big brother.

Rey thinks of the warm smell of Leia Organa's hair, and skin, and the second hug in her life when she first identified it.

She dreams of Ben when she's especially lonely.

She hates herself for how tamed, low and lazy she's become – a year ago she would have drilled a hole with nothing more than a nail and grease from her hair. Now she fantasizes about Ben and the way he kissed her.

They're on the floor, together. Her body is gross, dirty, and hurt, but in this now, he craves her. All of her.

She remembers the moisture from his lips when he kissed her, the way his lips are larger than hers and swallow her into sweetness. His tongue and how she feels she could swallow it down, down all the way to that tight, squirming spot in her womb, and have Ben touch her there.

Her legs are spread apart. He's crushing her, almost, from her breasts to her pelvis. His breath and the sounds he makes.

She conjures up his face, the kaleidoscope of features, the few times he's smiled, and his perfect back.

She remembers touching the skin there, back when he had that nightmare – back when it was just them. The power fuming from him. She won't deny these traitorous thoughts anymore – the idea that in all that rage and darkness and strength, there's a place inside him for just _her_ -

Rey's fingers still. She's not even really getting off, it's filthy in here; but she understands now. That's it. The Togruta. She desires the Mirialan.

It _is_ an opening, a weakness.

ssssssssssssssssssssss

Her vision is foggy the next time Rey opens her eyes. Something is…not wrong, just different. Like the slip out of a drunken haze.

Rey faces the energy field. It's transparent. Standing in front of it is a little humanoid boy.

Rey blinks, stupidly. He can't be more than five or six. He's so small, dressed in rags and with hair in desperate need of a cut. But a mixture of jade green and beige mark him as a hybrid.

Rey understands immediately and sits up. It's Joah.

How a child got through the security doors and is able to stare at her without the same fear as the others is not something Rey thinks of. What happens next is…

It's like reaching out for the sun and realizing it's about to warm you. In an instant she feels…drenched in the Force. It comes to her, breathes life and safety and embraces her deep in her bones.

 _You're here._ It's Joah who says this, without moving his lips. _You came to save us. You're going to save my momma._

An image of the veiled woman streams into Rey's memory like warm air. She gasps. _Her? That's Jirah, trailing behind the Mirialan all this time?_

But the way this boy believes in Rey, his words delivered so matter-of-fact in a way she never thought a child could, makes her wither unexpectedly. She can't even get out of this cage.

 _You can_ , the boy reassures her. _I waited for you. We'll do it._

 _How?_ Rey hungers for the answer.

 _You've got to trick them._ He stares at her, eyes just as tired as hers. Where has he been, on this ship? _Make them think –_

There's a snap of an airlocked door. Suddenly the dullness of the vision – of course, it must be – sharpens, breathes frosty life until Rey actually wakes up.

 _I'm here!_ The voice, the poor, tired boy's voice, whispers to her. A child determined to win a game.

Sssssssssss

So Lorra and Joah are both here. And Jirah.

Rey supposes…she's at least accomplished part of her mission. That just leaves escape.


	38. Chapter 38

The Call to the Light

By TheOneAndOnlySlayer

Chapter 38

Warning: graphic violence is ahead

ssssss

That strange feeling of optimism in the corner of the hall, in between the cells and the training room, must be where Joah is hiding. Rey tries to open her mind, to summon the child sprite back. But he doesn't come back again.

 _You've got to trick them. Make them think –_

Think what? Trick _what_ , exactly?

The answer waits in a corner, but Rey will not recognize it, not even lock eyes with it. It's impossible to commit to because of the danger to her soul.

She can't get out of this cell, literally just the _cell_ ; not by equipment. Not by breaking out of it.She must be let out. Trusted. Accepted.

The only way to gain freedom of movement is to make them believe she has slipped into the Dark Side.

The idea is a fleeting one, a faint breeze of hope. The Mirialan Ren Knight has been trying to break her, after all. He won't expect it. He thinks (he's suggested) she's too immersed in the Light, and would break from the Darkness. If Rey were stronger, she would scoff. Does he have any idea how tough she is? Darkness already had its way, molding her. She's killed as a child. She's shown how far she can go to survive. This is just another wild, fatal battle in the sand.

Ohh, but gods and stars, so much cruelty. She will not answer violence, that violence that has been coagulating all over her skin and heart, with violence in return. She thinks of how awful she felt, admitting she killed that Twi'lek girl to Ben. It felt like pulling the most stubborn piece of converter wires out of the gutted ships in the Graveyard, except the metal shards and wires are her own viscera.

Months ago, Ben ( _Kylo. He was Kylo Ren back then_ ) shouted, pleaded with her to join him. He was sweating, appearing more wicked and unwinding as he bellowed, "There is nothing for you out there! With THEM! There's only you and me."

Then she remembers the softened tone of his words, the bare kindness he gave only her, the things she has begun to associate with saltwater lapping at her chin, his wet, slicked-back hair, soaking clothes against his chest, his promise of loyalty to her and her Light.

She is considering brushing away all of that. Why not just hand herself to Snoke.

In the cold cell, she shrivels at the memory. _I can't. I won't._

sssssssssss

At last she has reached a point where she begins to scratch, claw at the skin of her thigh. She will cut the device out, with fingernails that have finally grown thick enough.

Skin becomes angry and pink, then red. Blotches give way to pinpricks of blood, but nothing more. Infuriated at how pathetic this looks, Rey shakes her head.

 _Pain means nothing._

It hurts. Rey grits her teeth. _Ignore it._

 _No. It feeds your desire. Your drive. Let it burn. Make it fuel._

That dark, curling voice. It doesn't matter who exactly it sounds like; only that Rey thought of the words herself.

That sick realization when Ben beat his wounded gut before charging her and Finn in the snow makes Rey stop, pressing a forgiving palm against her ravaged leg. is too grotesque and she does not have the stomach for it. She will go mad in this process.

This was a mistake.

Before she slips into sleep, Rey dares to look upward, and hope for rescue.

ssssssssssssssssssss

It is probably a week by the time she decides: one, her friends will not find her. Not just can't; _won't_.

It's not their fault, but Rey might not survive being on this ship for very long.

The other thing is that she has to give in. Change the game, if only to stave off the pressure from the others.

These handlers are pushing their captured "pupils" over the edge. Driving them mad with anger and desperation.

Rey's solution becomes finally clear: they'll get it.

The softer side of her believes that sacrificing herself will allow the innocent to stay that way. It's the only way to do this.

And if she goes too far...Ben. Ben, just thinking of him, will help her.

 _He can come back, to the Light. He can do it, and so can I._

Still, the thought of slipping into that awful, terrible fog where demons like Snoke lay, make her tremble. A _nakin. Luke. I won't betray you._ She doubts that Anakin an come here and help her, but she's long let go of things she can't explain.

And so, resolving herself, she resumes her much-forgotten stretching. Then she starts planks, then push-ups. Then moving her arms. What did Poe call it? Shadow boxing.

After her arms are tired of just punching the air...she turns to the wall.

It's durasteel. Much harder to penetrate than her own skin. Also, she's sure it's the only barrier against space. Hitting the wall is not a good idea.

That wall, in this cell of hers, is the only thing that stands between death and freedom. Death and victory. Failure, weakness...and vengeance.

The first punch rings like thunder in her brittle figure.

Pain echoes through and swallows her gasp. One is too much. But no. She has to do the other arm.

The next punch...equally as awful and not worth it. Blood stains the wall. Cuts crack through her knuckles.

 _You were a scavenger ever before you were a Jedi. No one can save you. It's just you. They've left you._

At the cost of her own soul, at the cost of betraying the one man she's clung to, pulled back in to the Light, to be with... _Oh, Ben, all of you, forgive me_...she makes herself believe this.

"I hate you," she mutters at first. Then the next punch, and another pummel. "I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU!"

"Keep your voice down!" Lorra screeches.

Rey does not. She screams, howls until she chokes on her tears. Until she thinks her own chest will explode and she will be no more. If hatred were fire, she'd engulf the cell.

She makes herself believe. _I hate._

Ssssssssssssssssss

By the end of the night, hatred is all she thinks, hears. Jakku. Abandonment. Hunger. Cruelty. Unkar Plutt. Kylo Ren. Skywalker's training. Skywalker dead. Leia. Everything. It is her heartbeat.

Someone's coming. Rey lays herself in front of the door. Legs in front, one bent at the knee. Leaning on her elbows. Bored expression on her face.

The cell's barrier opens and the Togruta stares back. Only her.

"All right. So you finally got the master's attention."

Rey scoffs so quietly even she thinks she doesn't hear it. Her ears are burning anxiously for what will happen next.

"I've always had his attention." She casts a slimy, simpering stare up at the Togruta. "More than I can say for you."

The Togruta leans back, off-guard and wounded. Rey doesn't notice that. The Togruta wears the earring again. Not just that, but there's a shiny pointed tool against her hip. Rey recognizes it immediately as the similar weapon Ben Solo used to hurt himself on Sher-hatha.

"Where did he get you? Did he buy you like the others? You were probably one of those high-groomed girls everyone talks about."

Rey switches from patronizing to genuine admiration (which is hard, considering). "Your skin is…luminous. Creepy beings must stare at you all the time. I can see why your master is so appealing. And you must also think he'd be gentle to you. Is that why you stare at him so often?"

The Togruta is well-fed and Rey hasn't eaten in…so long. This trap must be _perfect_.

The cold, bitter voice cracks just a bit. "You think I'm that easy to manipulate?"

Rey flexes her toes without moving them at all. "Oh, I know you are. The only thing you're good enough here is to tighten that top of yours and pull Rastro's whiny little – "

The Togruta lunges, saber drawn. Rey slides her feet as hard as she can, hitting the Togruta mid-stride. Hoisting herself up, Rey throws her arms to the Togruta's belt, part-unbalancing the other woman and part-reaching for the stiletto.

The other arm lands on the fingers gripping the saber. The struggle makes Rey's fists burn in the memory of last night.

Rey spits in the Togruta's eye. The saber is suddenly too close –

"ARRGHH!" Rey's cheek is hot, hot HOT. Cauterized flesh stings her nostrils. Instinctively she moves her other arm –

The Togruta seizes Rey's arm and bites, actually _bites_ –

In this scramble, the still-activated saber rolls away.

Dizzy, Rey head-butts, then lands an uppercut to her ear; the one with the damn spike earring.

Then ( _just do it, go for it, she'll kill you_ ) –

The Togruta howls. Rey's never torn flesh apart before, but she pulls the earring out, fiercely driving out the last of her hesitation.

The Togruta pins her bleeding ear with one hand in an attempt to hold off the pain.

At the point, exhaustion quickly spears Rey's adrenaline.

The saber.

The Togruta whimpers desperately behind her. The sound rattles Rey as she tries to pounce.

Dead weight swiftly pins Rey down on her stomach. She was inches away from the saber.

The stiletto pokes at Rey's left thigh. Rey bends her right arm to grab at the lower horn, if not the ravaged ear. The move is a distraction.

 _Don't let her feel me getting that knife._

The Togruta secures her thighs tightly around Rey's hips. The handle of the stiletto sticks out just enough.

Her left arm is so awkward, but the icy hush of the metal means it's out of the scabbard. Swiftly Rey aims for flesh – the left thigh. It sinks in, deep.

The scream is in her ear, shaking her. Rey twists the blade, practically steering her off.

The Togruta lunges again for the saber, the thing that will ensure defeat. With one functioning leg, she's crippled.

Rey shoves her off with her hip, and flips to her back. Blocking the Togruta and pinning her to her own back on the floor, forearm pressing on her neck, Rey grips the stiletto.

Organs, major organs – Skywalker didn't have to teach her that.

Underneath the ribcage, then. She recites what will help her survive. _I hate, I hate, I HATE –_

 _Sink. Squish. Blood gushes out. Done._

She makes herself watch. The shock registering in those widened eyes. She really is attractive. In a moment of horror, Rey is reminded of Korla.

The realization seizes her. She fears, suddenly, that two stab wounds aren't enough.

Shaking, Rey sits up, knelt over the dying Togruta. The saber's sick-green color drenches the already dark room in a dreamlike haze.

Rey gets up, quick as she can on quivering knees. She takes the saber, tightening her warm-wet, bloody hands on the familiar metal touch.

At last she has ultimate control. Her heart flutters and sighs in…contentment. Safety.

 _Finally, I am stronger._

She takes one look at the Togruta, a paling shadow, a fish gasping for air. She's still breathing.

It's like a rash breaks across Rey's skin. She cannot undo any of this. There was no other choice.

There's nothing else to do but end it quickly. She's not sure how to do that, other than beheading. She's never done that before.

Anything to make the woman's eyes stop shining at her in pain.

She does it quickly and puts herself at the opposite side of the cell. It's not far enough. She nearly vomits - secretly, she's satisfied that her body's tried to reject this newfound brutality in her. But she can't how regret. It's a weakness.

They'll come soon, wondering what's taking so long.

Rey fingers the metal saber hilt. Stained with the previous owner's blood. There's another possible solution. Rey sets the saber to the lowest energy hum, one that can safely pass through living flesh. There's a chance the kyber crystal's energy can disrupt the Force-dampener inside her leg.

She tries it. At first nothing, until agony grips her like a vice.

She closes her eyes, waits for the Force to breathe her in, welcome her back. Nothing. Just her own breath.

This upsets Rey more than she thought. A final cop-out. But the damage is done. The smell of blood now filters the space, and Rey's cheek stings as a reminder.

Swallowing, hating herself, Rey struggles to face the severed head behind her.

ssssssssssss

At the entrance of the training room, there is a chorus of gasps and whispers. The Mirialan turns around.

He is pleased to see the Jedi woman; mildly annoyed that she is unaccompanied. He sent the Togruta to collect her.

Blood drips from behind the Jedi. She hides something from behind her back.

"Where is she?"

The one called Rey wears an expression so flat it is almost flippant. She holds out what she has been keeping behind her, the little sneak.

The severed head of the Togruta woman, who faithfully drank his teachings, unteachable in the true ways of the Force as she was, hits the ground with a sick thunk.

The Mirialan blinks. He will not say he is surprised. He will not miss the Togruta, simply her efficiency. She could have been a useful addition within the ranks of the Ren Knights.

He is simply…impressed.

Rey squares her shoulders and declares in the room: "I think I'm ready now."


	39. Chapter 39

The Call to the Light

Chapter 39

By TheOneAndOnlySlayer

Oh my GOD this chapter took forever. It's pretty long and I tried to shorten it – but alas, I just got an extra job so that could mean weekend-only updates. Not fair! Thanks for reading.

sssssssssssssssssssssss

"I thought I told you to take care of each other."

Years of serving as Kylo Ren, disappointing Supreme Leader Snoke in his failures and waiting for punishment, rival the way Ben Solo's mother seems to penetrate his cloud of self-defense in one sentence.

He was ready to demand why his own mother hadn't jumped to order Rey's rescue. The reminder of his carelessness nearly deflates him.

He will not look at the floor. Instead he glowers at the corner of the hologram. "I...we got separated."

"You let her out of your sight? I didn't think that was possible."

"Mo..." No, it's still not right. It will never sound right calling her Mom again. "I saw something."

It's difficult to tell through the hologram, but Leia perks. "A Force-vision?"

A _dream_. Vader, and faces of those _he'd_ slaughtered in that Jakku village; that was the vision. This...

Rey's dead eyes, shocked even in their stillness, blaming him. Her lifeless weight...

He sighs and looks away. "Your prized dog came and found us, and recruited her into some suicide mission - "

"I'll deal with him." Leia muses after cutting Ben off. "Though I hadn't expected how successful it'd be. Well done."

"That's because I wasn't distracted," he corrects her. "I sent her away."

The dull pain in his throat shifts, making him swallow heavily. _I thought she was safe._

Whether Leia can hear her son's thoughts across the galaxy, or can sense it through his silence, she becomes gentle again. "She'll be all right."

"You can't sense her either, can you?" Ben retorts.

"No. But she has been on dangerous missions before. Where are you with the senior officers from Namorath?"

Thank his mother the diplomat for switching subjects. Before being summoned to talk to his mother, Ben had interrogated the senior-most First Order officers. Poe, Zaropf and Kelys waited as Ben searched their minds, staring them down and waiting for signs of open defiance.

Securing their cooperation had been easy. First Order protocol of betrayal involved a swift location, quarantine (and execution) of the offender's family. Ben had to rehearse, though, on what to say as soon as these officers clapped eyes on _him_.

Kylo Ren: the man behind the mask, nothing more than a long-faced man looking for the young Jedi woman; who would rip them to shreds...who would even extend an offer of peace, and mercy, to rescue her.

None of it made sense.

"I'm more concerned with what _your_ intelligence officers can do for us."

"Ben, you have eight thousand people who may have infor - "

"Six thousand prisoners who have been out of the field for months, years – and two thousand captured First Order officers," he parries testily. "I need active players."

Leia sighs and backtracks. "You say this...Xolon Ren has Rey. You can't..." _search for him?_ she wants to say.

Ben's jaw tightens. He's been hesitant to revisit this topic. "It may be a trap. I've worked so hard to lock myself from...Snoke."

Leia is stony at the name. "We'll do what we can. But I think you're far more equipped out in your location to find her."

Hot air, frustrated at these empty statements, circle inside him. Now he looks at the floor.

"Ben."

The healed cuts he left on his torso seem to return. His name is soft and kind, patient.

"Ben. I waited fifteen years for...for you to come back to me."

The pain and relief in her statement is unexpectedly soothing. It's true. The clarity in this forgotten sentiment makes his eyes widen, ashamedly wet.

She would reach out through that damn hologram and try to squeeze him, right now.

His mother gathers himself, appearing formidable than the quarter-meter projection allows her. "Do not give up so easily. Focus. Rest your body and your mind. Those Resistance men and women need a job to do, so you give them one. They won't fail you. And the officers...those are your people, too, Ben. They're in the same ship as you. Show them that they have a purpose. This isn't just about the war, you understand?"

The life of a woman, as Rey had once told him. He had been too stupid to understand.

"Yes. I do."

He breathes out the excess emotion, expelling the weakness that nearly ambushed him, only when she signals out with a faint "May the Force be with you."

Static comes from the transmitter Ben was given. "Solo, you're needed in the general assembly."

Sssssssssssssss

The general assembly is the only place to house the First Order officers inside the _Boshtar_. It's disorganized, and there's a constant hum of shouting. Lines leading to DNA and facial registration tables, interrogation rooms and latrines bisect around hastily organized barracks.

Ben senses the animosity like a waft of thick spice. Namorath has made the Resistance prisoners torn, hungry for their own version of justice. And yet...there's a smattering of _we're not like them_ sentiment, stressed and struggling to remain fair.

Ben searches for Dameron when his head snaps forward - something heavy hits the back of his skull.

"You!"

Baffled that he didn't see the attack coming, Ben blinks. Behind him is a coal-streaked face with horns. A three-eyed Gran male: a Namorath prisoner.

Ben isn't as nervous as he should be, but he feels around for his sympathizers' presence. Not close enough.

"I recognize you. You're him: Kylo Ren. You sonofabitch, you're a…a murderer!"

The Gran is his age, perhaps. His seething lust for punishment is obvious. With everyone watching, Ben must be careful.

As usual, though, he goes for aggressive flippancy. "Yes. Monster. Murderer. Madman. War-Monger. And traitor." He outstretches his arms, lightsaber out of sight. "I'm at your mercy."

The Gran lunges, dismissing the dangerous mockery. Ben easily subdues him and pushes him aside - hardly causing any harm at all. A crowd has circled around him. He's engaged a current of disorder already.

A large woman pushes onlookers out of the way and gets ready to kick. Ben doesn't even look at her face when he knocks her away.

"Hey-hey! Stop!" Zaropf and Dameron come charging into the crowd. A blaster shot goes off - hopefully on stun. "Knock it off!"

The circle tightens, and Ben has no choice but to use the Force as protection against them all. He senses too late that fingers pry at his belt. A child - no, a teenage Madruid alien – has snuck up behind him and now skitters away.

Someone shouts - "He's got the lightsaber!"

Ben whips around. He locates the Madruid, who climbed up a ledge and braces himself as if Ben will levitate him down.

His eyes tense as he locks them on the teen. "Give - " he orders, with tight gentleness, over the shouting. "Give it back. Do not - do not touch it."

Something ridiculously patient tells him to not use the Force. Such an immediate display of power at a child would not sway their sympathy to Ben at all – which, begrudgingly, he needs now.

A middle-aged Nautoloid takes Luke's lightsaber out of the teen's hands and marches, shaking, over to Ben, fingers quivering for the activation switch.

Ben's defiance returns: _Come on. Go ahead._

Just as the Nautoloid is within arm's distance, Poe finally reaches them. He interferes just in time, activating Rey's lightsaber half dangerously close to the Nautoliod.

"Enough! Back up, all of you!" he shouts. The rest of those loyal to Poe finally force back the majority of protesters.

"Poe, open your fucking eyes, he's Kylo Ren!"

"I _know_ who he is, dipstick!" Poe shouts back icily. He glares at Ben like a misbehaving thing for the first time. It makes Ben stand up straighter and glower.

"Why isn't he inside a containment field?!"

"Or DEAD!"

"He slaughtered dozens of ground troopers in Ansel's Run!"

Stiffening at the reminders, Ben mentally douses himself in his desire for peace. He lets the Light in - as much as he can, despite the instinct to keep it at arm's length.

 _Rey._

Poe eyeballs him warily, then strides over to grab Luke's saber from the Nautoloid's hands.

"If it wasn't for him," Poe announces, "None of you would be alive to have gotten off that rock. Whoever you are, whatever side you are on, or were on - put that aside and listen to us."

"Why is he here, Commander?" the woman Ben knocked away demands.

To Ben's surprise, Poe gives a small nod, suggesting that he has the floor. How ridiculous.

He puts his fiddling hands behind his back and projects false confidence. "What have you heard? I'm sure the whispers in close quarters have provided enough."

"What, that you defected? That's bantha shit. It's just a ploy."

" _That's_ bantha shit," Ben attacks. This woman's thoughts are more blatant than a Gregarian. "You say that only because I'm standing here right now. Weeks ago, you believed the First Order would fall after you heard I defected. You were happy when you thought even _I_ gave up on the First Order," he concludes lightly, reading through her emotional memories.

He spots the captured First Order officers throughout the crowd. He senses, as a contrast, a heightened mixture of fear and reverence. Most of them are all so young - younger than Rey.

They were all banished in a backward post, forgotten by the First Order.

As Kylo Ren, he resembled a bigger symbol for the First Order than their flags or Stormtrooper armies. It's heady; he was revered through stories of his brutality, his skill in battle - his unstoppable faith in the burgeoning empire. Kylo Ren was their prince, terrifying and great. He can still maintain that, in his dark civilian clothes.

Ben stands a little straighter, every inch the First Knight these men believe in (crave, even). "I speak to the prisoners of the Resistance. Those who served the First Order. What have your captors told you?"

He looks around, knowing hardly anyone will speak to him directly. He settles on a young woman, strong and still wearing interior blacks from the Stormtrooper armor. Her skin is dark like Finn's and her eyes are wide and cautious.

"You," he beckons.

She cringes and looks around at the Resistance fighters around her. "They…they said that we have the chance to do the right thing."

Someone braver shouts from the other side. "They haven't told us if we'll be pardoned."

"Well, to be fair, they haven't told me that either," Ben jokes flatly. It's like frost forming on a window and cracking. He hears the cackling of nervous laughter among the few.

But then the demands break through the buzz. "Are we going to prison?"

"Are they going to execute us?"

"Why are you standing with them, and not with us?"

"We're not going straight to the Resistance base," Poe supplies. "We came her as volunteers to liberate Namorath. Our initial plan was to – "

"Where are we going?!" a woman, presumably a First Order officer, shouts.

Poe sighs and takes out a holoprojector from his belt. He turns it on, and a large-scale hologram of Rey shoots out in color.

Ben blinks. The image of her is mostly unlike the woman he had come to know as a friend, his only friend. She is outwardly smiling, and free. If the image were clearer, her eyes would be sparkling. He thinks he knows what she sounds like in laughter, but doesn't. His heart clenches.

"You see this face?" Poe demands. "Do you all recognize her?"

"No problem if you don't – most of you were left in a gutter," Zaropf casually adds in.

Someone close by answers for everyone. "The Jedi girl."

"The last hope," adds another.

"Wait, there's still Skywalker – " an alien protests.

"Skywalker's dead."

" _Luke_ Skywalker?!"

"No, he disappeared – " a droid argues in Binary.

"No, you toolbox, he came back about a year ago. She's a whole new player in the game – "

"Yeah, she's been busy kicking _his_ ass!" someone screeches in victory, pointing to Ben.

"All right, shut UP!" Poe bellows. "Just listen up. The Jedi Rey's been abducted. She was on a mission locating a missing girl, in a trafficking ring involving Force-sensitives. She was last seen at a place called the Asylum in Lautori. She was taken by – "

"Xolon Ren," Ben concludes. "None of you may know who that is, but few of you track down the Knights' activities, ordered by General Hux. We've spoken to your superiors. Out of the fear for their families' lives, they have sworn total cooperation with us. Some of you spies," Ben points out, sweeping his gaze at the hundred closest faces, "have carried significant information in your careers."

"Rey's been on dozens of missions," Poe continues. "She's not just a fighter for the Resistance, or a holy warrior. She's a good person. She would have been here to rescue all of you, First Order or not."

Ben narrows his eyes at Poe. The pilot's not like his own mother with her high political speeches or firm orders; he speaks plainly. He can sense the way these people's convictions waver just a bit. _Ass_.

One Resistance POW, a Tarsunt, points violently to her former captors. "You trust them to work for us? How do we know they won't betray us?"

"I'll be the judge of that," Ben promises knowingly. "Those who volunteer to help will be assessed. Those of you who so much as think of mutiny will be shipped to more menial use for the Resistance."

"And be executed?" the same young First Order officer fearfully repeats the same question that's on all of their minds.

Ben looks to Poe, who carefully rehearses: "We're not inclined to immediately execute this many First Order soldiers. As has been said, we are providing an opportunity for those who served the First Order: defect now, pledge loyalty to democracy and the Republic, and join the Resistance."

"And possibly die," someone interjects.

"Yes." Ben's flat tone drops like metal.

"My Lor – " a First Order in a technician uniform drops her head in submission, hesitating on what to call Ben. " Sir. Even if General Organa herself were here now to promise us these things, we cannot know for sure that they will be kept."

"The Jedi Rey will." Ben doesn't even think twice about it. He backtracks, trying to explain, "She's not a politician."

Poe notices the cover-up, and suddenly feels brave. He has known, going in this, that these people, most of them, were all just following orders and hadn't been given a chance to escape like Finn. He doesn't want to sacrifice his dedication to the Resistance. He believes it with every beat of his heart. He worries, though, that with every mission he completes, he risks being as blind as those who conjured up the old Empire.

He is reminded of his conversation with Rey in that smelly freighter's cockpit: _What happens when this war is over_? she said.

Poe looks at the faces, memorizing them. "I will too. I'm Commander Poe Dameron, and I promise as a witness if you pledge your loyalty now, I will see to it you are pardoned somehow."

"The Jedi girl killed my friends!" a First Order captive reminiscent of Hux spits. "I'm not going on some rescue mission to save her! She can rot."

"Then so will you," Ben retorts icily. The chill seems to manifest just from Ben's sneer. "This is your only chance. You either come with us as Resistance collaborators, or die in the dust."

Silence pierces the room at his vigor.

"Just this one mission?" a bulky teen, presumably another Stormtrooper, ventures.

Ben opens his mouth to reply, but is cut off, surprisingly, by Kelys. "To start with. There is more to do. Do it for your own survival. For your own freedom."

Hmm. The smart girl had been one of the few just listening the whole time.

"You have no idea what you're asking," someone shoots down. A middle-aged woman sounds hollow from grief, projecting it all, to his disappointment, at Ben. "How dare…You've been killing us for fifteen years. Now, you're just asking us, right now, to work together. How can…."

It's like looking at another version of Ben's mother, torn from betrayal and openly blaming him for everything he's done, had she not been so blind to his transgressions.

Sullen, Ben catches the pale glow of the image of Rey, imagining she were here right now, and takes a few steps in her direction. He, not to mention everyone else, is shocked and alert at the action. What will he do?

He is mercilessly blank over what to say first until he senses it – bitter and mud-like; the agonizing ache of a dead loved one. He can taste this, too – the dead was young, and her grief reeks from injustice and desires retribution. A toxic combination. Ben has no reason to come closer, but the glow of the light makes him do it.

"Whom have I killed?" Ben can easily look inside, pry through her memories, and see. Instead he says, "Tell me."

He's close enough now, ignoring the hushed, shuffling sounds when he kneels to her. Her lips tremble. Ben notices the wrinkles along her eyes and mouth.

"A son," she says. Her chest rises, threatening a sob, but she hardens like ice, brittle. "He was eighteen. You cut him down, like he was nothing!" Unable to keep it together after that outburst, something they can all see took every ounce of strength, she whispers, "He's the reason I'm here now."

The need to protect this woman among the crowd is so strong, that it overwhelms the confusion over Ben's presence. The massive desire to see Ben suffer returns, swelling. Even Poe and Zaropf have moved forward as if to shuffle Ben away.

Ben may buckle under it. He's not sure what is possessing him. He stares almost dumbly at this older woman whose son he's murdered. All he can think of is…

 _I shouldn't be here._

The glow of Rey's hologram makes him look up to it once more.

She said before she kissed him that she wished things were easier. The foolish girl. _She_ should be here. It would never be easy. He's damned. Not even she can save him.

He looks back at the woman. He's not even sure what he can give her other than this.

"Yes, I served the First Order, murdered in the name of it. I was there at Ansel's Run. I led the Knights of Ren and hunted down members of the Senate. I have tortured some of you," he adds, making himself turn and face Poe.

 _I am sorry. I will never deserve to ask for forgiveness._

"…and I watched Starkiller's first strike from a Star Destroyer. I did all of these things because I believed in the Supreme Leader himself. I did ever since I was a child. In a way, I'm no different than a Stormtrooper. I was..." _Stupid. Ignorant. Weak. Pliable. A monster_.… "…misled."

There's a faint scattering of thoughts in agreement.

Ben prickles at how weak he has shown himself right now and sniffs brusquely. "I don't serve Snoke anymore. I don't expect any of you to believe in the Force, but I was brought back, to the Light. Because of her. I don't expect you to care, but without her, the Resistance will fall. So if you want the possibility of a reduced sentence, you will help us get her back," Ben snaps.

"I – " a middle-aged man, clean-shaven with a clipped Basic accent, clears his throat nervously. "I'm Group Captain Roanlaw. I'm a secret member of the…the Church of the Force."

Heated whispers among both Resistance and First Order flutter in the air.

"I – " The Captain struggles. "I had thought – hoped – that you – Kylo Ren – were what the power of the Force was about. Strength and pride."

Ben's throat feels leaden with ore. _Of course._ He's hunted down members of Force-worshippers with Xolon Ren. Not just to look for his Uncle Luke, but to remove a potential threat to his existence as a Skywalker turned Dark.

He's killed somewhere near…a hundred potentials, he guesses. A hundred who had been judged too weak or dangerous to join the cult of the Ren Knights

"But she – " the captain continues, pointing to Rey's image. "I saw the truth. Please, let me help, to find her."

Mouth slightly agape, Ben stares at Captain Roanlaw with awe. He can't believe -

There's a sound of someone far in the back, wanting to speak.

"Excuse me!" a brunette stands up. "Please. My name…it's Derra. I was stationed at Krakkauer. I was in the main communication tower when…I lost my leg, but there was a boy my son's age…"

Ben knows already. In Rey's memory, there was a blond boy in the smoke, his body blown in two.

"She couldn't save him, but then she looked at me, and – tied my leg up. She tried to save us, even when…" the woman shakes her head. "I owe her my life. Whatever I can do. Even if I go to prison for the rest of my life. Let me help."

Something…transforms the space. It's as if a breeze, thin as summer, comes to relieve them of this complicated knot of loyalties and fear. Ben feels it intensely, but he's sure that it has taken hold of everyone else.

He just wants to leave. Again, though, these people have just begun to pry him apart.

"Why are _you_ doing this?" a strong but unemotional voice pipes up.

Ben looks back, unable to find, unable to care, who spoke. Empty black eyes, like spilt oil pouring onto the floor, stare back to the crowd. Can't they tell?

"Because I have nothing else to live for."

Behind them, Poe takes note of this. Such an admission should resonate. Honestly, though, Poe can't seem to care that much. Ben has said this, not as a man torn in emotional torment, but as a man facing the executioner's block, resigned.

Poe dismisses them, finally, and Ben waits by the door to round on him. His agitation has come back in full force, so he leans into Poe's space. "You asked me to come here and be assaulted by all those people?"

"We broke the ice," Poe explains flatly. "Rumors of you wandering this ship like you own the place would have gone round. Now it's over and done with. Not to mention that little speech you made will finalize any doubts of your disloyalty over the holonet."

Poe jerks his chin upward to where Terric and Niall lean over a railing high above. Something glints in Terric's hand – it must be that damned red holopad of his.

Ben grimaces, incensed. He glares down at a smug Poe.

"They can't know – this is a well-known interior, they'll know this is a Star Destroyer, even a gutted antique – "

"We'll just use the recording – "

"- And publicize that Rey's missing, and we're looking for her?!"

"It's called _editing_ ," Poe says in a hoarse, patronizing slowness.

"Commander!" Zaropf sprints over to them. "We just got word – they've located the Rodian ship."

Widened dark pairs of eyes lock on each other in utter disbelief. Alarm and excitement causes them to bolt out of the room and head straight for the control center.

"Impossible!" Poe breathes out.

"Is it a fixed signal?!" Ben yells. "We can lock on their hyperspace destination or cause a jamming signal to their navigational charts and force them out of hyperspace."

"Not sure if we can do that," Poe responds, running alongside Ben. He breezes past the taller man when he realizes Ben has stopped running.

Behind, Ben jerks, his mind on fire. It's so disorienting, he has to stop and gasp.

Poe decides he hates when this happens. "Solo, what?"

With eyes pinched closed, Ben tries to sift his head through the instant vision:

 _Three blurs, moving so effortlessly together; the sounds of lightsabers whirring and the sick waft of burnt flesh._

 _Moves he knows too well – he's studied them in dank training rooms, knows how to fight them off – whir around him._

He finds himself whispering out loud, "Who's left?"

Who's left. Rey and Luke had done a fine job eliminating the others.

Luke cut down the first two Snoke sent to Nar-Shadda. Then, when he sensed Rey on Geonosis, Ben had sent Porro and Asjha. Angered when he sensed their deaths, Ben had chased down Rey – and ended up in that cave-in.

And then she had caught his attention again, when she and Luke defeated the last two of their ranks, Deo'vas and Nuvok.

Rutja, he thinks. Venasto – if he had returned from one of Snoke's training missions…and Khaili, the youngest. The most ferocious.

In the hallway, Poe leans forward, demanding. "Solo! What is it?!"

"Rutja, Venasto and Khaili."

Poe doesn't like the familiarity of those names. Doesn't like how Rey or Leia - hell, even Luke Skywalker – aren't here to help with this "Jedi" mess. He waits.

Ben blinks rapidly, gets up without the usual grace he possesses in that cumbersome body of his. "The last Knights of Ren that are alive. They're coming for Rey."


	40. Chapter 40

The Call to the Light

Chapter 40

By TheOneAndOnlySlayer

Through the fog of murder (murder, it was murder; same as the past Knights of Ren she'd torn down), Rey had thought quickly. Once the Mirialan found her, he'd keep an even closer, covetous eye on her.

This ship had been so cold, and the air felt isolated. How long had this ship been in space? Was it possible that when the captives were asleep, that it had landed for refueling?

 _Boy_ , she calls out in haste. _Joah_ , _where are you?_

She needs to find the engine room, to tinker with its inner workings. But she needs to not be seen.

Joah comes through the door, blinking at her.

 _Where's the engine room?_ she thinks in Huttese.

The Force-sensitive boy's eyes widen as he finally notices the head in Rey's hand.

Chided, Rey hides it behind her back. _Please –_

 _I know where_ , he replies with a nervous gasp. They move slowly, together. When footsteps clang perilously close to them along the catwalks, Joah presses Rey's legs against the wall. It makes her eyes water unexpectedly. He's so small, and yet he thinks to protect _her_.

The make it to the door leading to the engine room. Two men are guarding it.

Behind the entryway, Joah looks up to Rey. _They won't move._

Rey looks at this boy, this poor wonderful child, who has hidden from harm for so long that his eyes have aged decades.

 _Yes you can_ , she encourages him, sweetly, brushing his stiff and dirty hair from his forehead. _It's simple. Look into their minds and make them think what you think. Be calm. Be strong._

Rey is sure he can do it. If he's spent so much energy hiding from everyone on this ship, he can enter these simpletons' minds.

The grunts posted at the door amble away like they're heading to lunch. Rey unlocks the door and the engine room greets her with a wall of steam. It's too humid to walk through, but her eyes adjust. An overworked, twin-radion engine with pod-links spin rapidly.

Rey's eyes narrow. A fuel leak will be too obvious. It would show up on a scanner in the cockpit. Rey scans the mechanics for anything familiar.

There's a console nearby. Here's where they'd have to switch to auxiliary power if the engine…overheated. It's in danger of doing so – it's been up in space for too long.

If she can undo the auxiliary power, switch the cable to the…hmm, the internal mechanics, meaning the security systems, that might work. The security system would crash, and nothing but navigation and oxygen would operate.

That leaves the engine.

Rey eyes the fast-churning mechanism, an organ unaware of its own weakness. She takes out the lightsaber with regret; she had hoped she could keep it as an emergency. She quickly unscrews the pieces and opens up the core. Two kyber crystals sit nestled inside the hilt.

Kyber crystals hold so much power on their own. Thinking of Kylo Ren's unstable kyber crystal, the way it sparked dangerously through the side-vents, make Rey think that a stable one would create some explosion, or incendiary effect, if it got caught inside the gears of the engine.

She makes a quick read of a nearby navigation chart. There's a planet nearby their trajectory, but they'll pass it. They're in a wildly inhabited area, practically a wilderness of planets. The closest will have to do.

She calculates in a way Poe taught her. Three days…just three more days.

She kneels to Joah, big eyes clueless to her thoughts. _You hold onto this and wait three days to pass. You stick this_ , she points to the engine behind her, _in there._ _Just throw it in so it crushes into pieces._

"Why?" he whispers.

"We need to make the ship land." Rey's sure she will be stopped if she will try to reach the cockpit. She can create a series of malfunctions to make the pilot emergency-land. For the moments, it's all she's got so far. She's been in ships that have flown dead-stick before. Not easy at all. She tried to use the Force to slow the _Falcon_ from crashing into the ocean once. She had a splitting headache and an ear-burning scolding from Luke about how _not_ to overestimate her power.

She looks at her leg in doubt. She may not get that implant out before then. But the others…maybe if she plays her cards right, she can be a more active role in their training. They're Force-sensitive; they must be able to help, even on instinct.

She thinks of Ben Solo. How did he become the most powerful asset to the Dark Side?

From the pure snippits he spoke of, he had been raised in the Jedi ways of the force. He had been raised in a safe environment. But the Dark Side kept pulling at him from beyond; Snoke, then.

None of this fear-catalyst-inspired training. Idiots. It'll be their downfall, just as it has been Snoke's downfall treating Ben like shit.

But the've spent too much time here. The Mirialan will be expecting…them, Rey realizes as she looks back at the severed woman's head with revulsion.

 _I hate. I hate, and I will swallow it. Let the Dark cover me._

She bends over, grips the Togruta's horned head, and leaves the boy. _Three more days._

Sssssssssss

It is a pity Xolon cannot read the exact thoughts in people's minds. For a Force-sensitive who has mastered very little of the Force's more elegant abilities, Xolon thinks he has more than made up for it in his control. And in his ability to understand people's emotional motives. He knows cruelty, in every form, pirate or complacent, civilized person. He can pluck strings all on his own. Emotions he can taste; the ones that hide under civility are like complex notes of which he cannot be fooled.

For someone who can do only a little less with the Force than, say, some others with a finer pedigree, Xolon Ren has adapted all on his own. Very little surprises him.

So when the Jedi woman comes by herself, glaring at him in half-mad triumph, Xolon can just imagine the cliff she teeters over.

He hadn't quite expected the Togruta's head to bounce rudely out of her hand.

A cloud of unexpected pleasure settles inside him. _At last._ The hatred has shattered out of her. The pressure of remaining within those stunted Jedi-creed walls has burst, and though she sticks out her chest in confidence, she is seething underneath.

"What are you waiting for?" her voice is soft. She's imitating him. "Are you deaf? Start teaching me."

Nearby, the elder Iktochi brother, Jua'nul, looks to Xolon. He is eager, and burns at the lack of respect shown to him.

Xolon nods at Jua'nul. They all lick at his attention. Unconscionably, Xolon is sure, so does Rey.

Jua'nul circles the human woman, blood staining her arms and dirty front. Xolon's eyes are on the Jedi pretender. Equally focused, Rey glares evenly at Xolon as if Jua'nul isn't there.

She's quick on her feet. In unarmed combat, she's an experienced match with Jua'nul. No surprise, after what the Supreme Leader – and the fool Kylo Ren – told him. The younger Iktochi brother, Jua'nef, watches curiously.

Rey continuously smacks and shoves the larger teen out of the way. Jua'nul increases his aggression, underestimating the young woman. He missteps – Xolon _tsks_ in disappointment – and Rey takes the opening like an eager predator.

Juan'ul goes down, hard, his knee hitting the ground first. His arm is twisted behind his back in Rey's grip.

Rey is panting from the effort. He wonders exactly how little they've fed her, for she's doing so well managing her lack of energy. In the next second, she strikes the offending arm and Jua'nul stammers in stifled pain.

His disciples, those who have fully embraced Xolon's words of hate, look to their master. They think he will interfere. Protect him.

Hmm. The Force is…Xolon gathers his thoughts, reviewing his limits but nevertheless reading her aura. She is…hardened and focused. Like sharpened steel, she has been through the fire and is cooled and deadly. Efficient.

Jua'nef has had enough and approaches his injured brother to attack.

Xolon's fingers stretch for a second just as Rey reaches out. "No! You can help him. Watch – look at his arm."

Confused, Jua'nef turns to Xolon.

"Come here," Rey says to Jua'nef, inviting and sincere.

Behind, Jirah's thoughts brush against Xolon's: _She means to heal him._

 _She cannot,_ he reminds her crisply. _Her power is restrained._

 _Not from her. From Jua'nef._

Xolon Ren's eyebrows almost rise."Only the Light can allow healing."

Rey's eyes peel away from the brother's. The glare she gives him is fleeting and disciplinary. Xolon could laugh. She means to teach _him_.

 _How…unexpected_. Xolon hasn't been confused in a long time. He has been warned before of this woman's remaining unknown gifts.

This…Xolon will allow. Although he's not sure what will happen.

Rey reaches for Jua'nef's hand and places it at Jua'nul's dislocated arm. "Come here, let me show you. Look inside his body. Look deep. Feel his heart, his blood. Feel every rushing part. Feel the river of his blood. Feel the imperfections, the tears."

She sounds more firm. "This is your body, too. Stitch it back. Use the pain – " she hesitates, "use the pain of fear for him, and stitch it together."

 _Oh, what a gift she is, Supreme Leader._

Xolon Ren never has expectation for anything, only waits. He feels nothing, expects nothing, only serves. Yet he greedily watches the boy try to concentrate, and fix his brother's arm, with satisfaction.

Dark Force-users are, as a concept, not supposed to perform accelerated healing on themselves – far more likely, on others. It is a mark of compassion, a dangerous trait in the Light. Xolon may excuse the twin's behavior – he had thought of it as a strength between the two to sync thoughts in battle. Yet -

"There – I think you have it. Just breathe. Breathe with him. Feel it swell the right way…you're doing it."

That small bit of praise brings Xolon out of his thoughts. "Leave us."

The spell is broken. The others – Nialys the incendiary Zabrak, even Jirah – shuffle out of the room. The guards prod the rest, especially the concerned Mirialan changeling girl.

Jua'nef takes Jua'nul out of the room until only Xolon and the girl are left. He senses…ahh, good, now he can see. Before, even he could tell that she shone like a sun at dawn. Now, though, she smolders like embers, hidden in predatory shadows.

His fingers itch in a way that the nails begin to sting. A curious side-effect he's developed in his most recent training with the Supreme Leader.

He wonders as he circles the girl in return. She is tired suddenly. She has no more reserved strength to fight again, but she stands tall against him.

Xolon has no need of that now. He crosses his hands behind his back. "What is it you wish to learn?"

The Jakku girl blinks warily. She shifts under his moonlike eyes. "I…"

The obsession that this woman cannot help but project in front of Xolon changes like currents in a storm. Xolon feels the shiver of death come from her. It tempers into _who is he what does he want –_

"You," Rey says stonily. "I want to learn about you."

In an instant Xolon whips out his hand, fingers pinched. Rey's hands claw at her throat, prying away at an invisible grip.

"What is it _you wish to learn?"_ Xolon tries again. He cannot read her mind, he knows this, only her emotions.

"I – " Rey's voice is a weak echo. "I –" _want to learn. No - to get out of here!_

Hmm – obvious but not good enough. He flings her back through the air. She collapses and sputters.

Giving her no time to recover, Xolon draws her back. He makes her body drag on the ground.

She braces her arms to rise, but he steps on her, pinning her at the back.

She spits and growls. "I want to be left _alone_ , you – "

Not enough. Xolon crushes his fist. He imagines the Jedi pretender is on fire with pain. So acute is it that the woman can barely scream.

Satisfied, he steps away to hear her gasp and sob. She catches it before its pitiful release and roars in humiliated fury.

"Fine, I'll tell you! Bastard – I want to kill your master!" She promises: "I'll kill Snoke, I want him dead in my hands!"

"That's not all, is it?" Xolon purrs, head cocked expectedly.

She is a wounded Vaapad, hissing on all fours. He feels her come undone, that filthy fake confidence of hers. He can't be fooled.

He throws at her what Lord Snoke has provided for him: Scavenger girl, left alone with no family. Pitiful and left behind to die.

"Brave girl. So strong…all those battles, all on your own. I've seen it myself."

"Shut up." She shakes her head, disgusted at his seductive tone.

"What was it that made your parents toss you into the desert to die? Was it your gift in the Force? Did they know you were a death wish on their hands after the Second Purge? Or did they sense the Dark stain in your heart? That you would tear them down like Kylo Ren did his own family?"

"You don't know a thing about me!" Rey throws out.

"Liar! Decepter! You cannot fool me, though you've certainly done a good job fooling _him_."

The look of horror spreading across Rey's face strengthens Xolon. "I must say…well done. At least I knew he wouldn't remain under our master for too long." He whispers deep into Rey's ear. "Best to weed out the weakest in the herd, so I should thank you for that."

Rey hisses in disgust. "You think…you think that I wanted that? _Him_?"

"He is yours now, is he not? Your…lover. Your swain. He was always a horrid romantic," Xolon shrugs. Truly, he was. He was young when Snoke first paired them together, to perform the first years of dirty work to the First Order. The boy adapted in time, but it wasn't out of appetite for bloodshed. Xolon knew the disguised attempts to look like he was thriving in the Dark, hunting down innocent Force-sensitives.

"He must have lapped at your feet. You're a woman; the success in drawing him to your affections must have been…a delightful victory."

Red blooms under Rey's face and neck. Her ember eyes smolder at him. She's shaking.

Xolon matches her stare. "He is weak. You thought you possessed the ultimate advantage, when really…you did us a most needed favor."

The woman looks away, heavy with shame and ugly self-hate.

"He was a close second, wasn't he. His attentions. But not enough. After Skywalker…after Skywalker first rejected you. After all those missions Vader's daughter gave you meant you were not worthy of her affections."

The shakes are no longer fueled by frustration, or fury, but of angst. Sadness finally takes her under. Right where Xolon wants her.

"Now say it. What is it you want?"

"I want…" she looks to the ground, ashamed. Her voice is low and heavy, unlike the bright youth in her face.

"Yes…." Xolon comes closer, looming over her crumpled form. "Tell me."

"…..I want to _belong_."

There. That's it. He returns to his haunches, satisfied for the moment. "Your family. Not the one you were born with, of course. The one you tried to make."

She grimaces.

"Girl, I cannot help you if you do not say it."

"They…." She hates herself. This turmoil dribbles through her chest and Xolon drinks it. "They're not coming. They can't."

"They have their boy. Their precious heir. The General…she is the traitor. Traitor to her own blood. Vader's blood. She is as self-serving as her sire. She knew you would be covered in Kylo Ren's scent. That the boy who hid underneath would bend in heat for you."

Numb with defeat and exhaustion, Rey's eyes flutter. She swallows heavily.

Xolon thinks he's had enough. He rises to his feet.

The pitiful girl shoots a cursory glance at only his knees. "Do…do you find me wanting, then?" the sarcasm is faint compared to her delicate strength. She's afraid.

"On the contrary." Xolon appraises her. She is ready, in his eyes.

He offers a hand to help her up. He smirks at the way she eyes it suspiciously, disbelieving it's actually there for her to grasp.

When she takes it, letting him help her up, he inspects the sweaty hair that sticks to her cheek. She feels torn, but that is what he's here for – in her words, to help her find the pain and stitch it back together.

"I think you are right where you belong."

Ssssssss

Jirah waits on her master's thoughts to return into the training room. He's left to meditate on his own, and communicate with his own ghostlike master – Jirah shudders at the last time she had interrupted them.

 _Collect the girl and have her fed. Make her rest and ready for tomorrow._

Jirah, always used to that knot between her and Xolon Ren, bows her head in the hallways as if he were here. _Yes, Master._

When she enters, she can hear the _whish_ of the doors from the other side signifying her master's disappearance. On the floor in a defeated heap is her; the human girl, the Jedi.

Jirah has heard every word. Every sentiment, every thought racing like lights through every person's head around her – she catches them, absorbs most of them and stores them like greedy memories. They are all she can take in a place like this, where nothing is her own. Anything that had been…

Chiroh. Joah.

Jirah swallows and moves forward. Her master may not share the same gifts as her, his most treasured servant, but he has kept her by his side for a reason. She serves as her master's thought-interpreter, to serve in ways he telepathically cannot. He will never let her escape.

"Please, mem. You are tired, and hungry. Come with me and - "

 _Joah. Joah._

Jirah freezes. She is veiled, and the girl faces the ground, but her silence strips her bare.

 _She's unable to read me,_ Jirah thinks to herself, with forced reason, though her mind clamors in alarm. _She is inhibited –_

 _I know how to read minds. I know you can read minds, and I know you are afraid._

Stunned, Jirah's breath catches. The words coming from this girl's head are so clear and deliberate, as though she knows Jirah can hear her.

The girl – Rey, her master calls her – rises gingerly. She's hurt, and her face is splotchy.

Rey's words are clear. There are no buzzing thoughts that cloud her direct speech to Jirah. _Can he hear us? When we speak like this?_

For a moment – a very long one – Jirah is terrified that her master is hiding in the corners of her own head and will spring forth to swallow her whole. She cannot move or speak.

But she decides that, never has anyone addressed Jirah directly before. No one is allowed to interact with her, not ever – she is her master's alone.

This girl looks at her and seems to know Jirah's soul, even behind her veil.

So she shakes her head. This girl said her son's name. For the first time, the fire of ownership rises in her belly. _No._

Satisfied, Rey rises to her feet, exhausted to the bone. "Good. Lead the way." _So we can talk alone._


	41. Chapter 41

The Call to the Light

Chapter 41

Officers gather around the schematic of the Rodian ship. Poe is flanked by Zaropf and Kelys while Ben only half-listens. He feels sick with tension. The vision of the last Ren Knights is stained within his eyes, and he has to clench his fists underneath crossed arms to center his calm.

 _Rey is there. She must be. She has to._

 _If she isn't dead._

No – Rey is beyond anyone's dominion. Kylo was once the cruelest being in the galaxy. Rey so casually slipped from _his_ grip like a goddess into the ether. She has escaped him, surpassed him. She won't need much help from the likes of this silly rescue mission (at least that's what he tells himself now).

 _He imagines now, in a frantic fantasy, that she will be poised upon their arrival, miraculously unhurt and smirking sweetly at their concern. "What took you so long?" Ben is sure she will say, her eyes shining at him from across the room, forgetting everyone there; even Poe._

 _Ben will tie himself to her and never let her go._

Caught between the desire to destroy and faint, Ben fears his madness is contagious. This impenetrable cloud of bloodlust – It should be a familiar balm, but instead, he is not ready for it.

 _Stay calm - stay calm._

He listens to just enough as the attack group is dismissed. They will load onto two First Order battle cruisers. A string of defected First Order volunteers, including Group Captain Roanshaw and Derra, are committed to this sudden rescue mission.

They all rush into two cruisers. The _Bostar, t_ oo valuable to be seen just yet, will continue through hyperspace and rendezvous in two hours. It is only one banged-up Rodian freighter, after all.

"Hey."

Poe's hard stare causes Ben to snap his eyes open.

"You with us?"

Jaw ticking, Ben buries his anxiety. "I'm meditating."

Poe doesn't let up. "Can you tell she's in there?"

For a moment, Ben isn't sure how to answer. He feels her fate is strung quite close to whatever lies inside that ship. His enemies – his former allies – feel more real close by.

"They've blocked her, somehow. I just – know she's there." He's equally uneasy that he can't sense Xolon. Ben's stomach plummets. Xolon cannot block his own Force signature, or even his own presence. But someone else – Venasto, at least – definitely could.

Poe drags out his irritable hesitation. "If this is a trap – "

"It's not a trap!" he hisses. "She's there. We _know_ she – "

" _Was_ inside of that ship three day cycles ago. If we need to bail…" Poe casts a worried look at Ben. "Can you cover for us? If she's not there – "

"Fine. Yes." He breathes in and out twice to be sure. "Yes."

Those _snakes_ are waiting for him, hiding in the depths of that ship. He redraws their faces: Venasto, the oldest perhaps, and most patient, a Barabel. Rutja is the most strikeworthy cobra who hides in the dark, the slippery and deceptive wench. She had begun to study Vaapad, a curiosity she had undertaken after finding footage of Mace Windu.

Khaili, the youngest, is impulsive, naïve, and attacks with blind rage serving to fuel her brutal, hack-like attacks. She is the most like Ben in his metamorphosis as Kylo Ren.

Khaili is also the most likely to attack Ben out of any three-man formation. When he was Kylo, Ben had tormented Khaili. He trained her the most, an odd mixture of harassment and verbal put-downs on how she was probably the weakest of the Ren Knights. It had been, Ben fully admits, overcompensation after suffering under Xolon's expert patience in his manipulation. Kylo had felt so _satisfied_ to have someone else who could appear more impulsive, dangerous, and certainly stupid compared to his own struggle with the Dark Side.

Vaapad: impossible to carry out in close quarters of a ship, unless darkness proved to be an aid. Makashi and Ataru, Venasto's usual fallback, are predictable enough for Ben, who had been surrounded by Jedi. Khaili's haphazard attempts at Juyo would be easy to ward off, were she to face Ben alone.

Ben's jaw ticks again, deep in thought. He is an expert in Juyo himself, but he supposes he could dip into Dun Moch while fending them all off with Form Three, Soresu. He hasn't had to use Form Three in so long, so annoyingly passive and cowardly, that Ben wonders if he can't just snap the three's necks and be done with it.

 _No._

Hot breath expels from him like smoke. He can't use killing as an answer anymore. It's becoming increasingly difficult to do so, but his allegiance to Rey demands it.

Still. If Rey could kill the others, Porro to Nuvok, and if she could press her forehead to his, while skin traders lied dead at their feet, then destroying the last of his enemies wouldn't matter.

sssssssssssss

The first Resistance cruiser swoops around and attacks at the front. The second cruiser Ben and Poe are in lurks for a few carefully calculated moments until it aligns perfectly to the Rodian ship's docking bay. The cruiser lodges its docking clamps into the enemy ship, sealed tight.

Ben makes his way to the front. They all part for him, curious at what he will do. He casts out his senses like a net for the closest being in the Rodian ship to unlock the docking bay; easier than cutting out a hole with his lightsaber. He will batter his way through and search through the ship while the rest of their strike team hold down the entryway.

The second the door opens, smoke – a leaking coolant or broken oxy-filter – billows through. The lights are down.

"Quick, scanners!" Zaropf orders.

"Just steam; it's a leaking coolant," Kelys barks, her scanner out.

Ben is ready to bolt forward. This is a typical Knight of Ren setup.

"Solo?" Poe whispers.

"There are two dozen, armed," Ben replies. "Do not shoot."

In his mind, he imagines he is Starkiller itself, clawing at energy. The Force rushes out of him, a supernova of blinding weight.

Ben knocks out all the two dozen weapon-carriers, a collection of human and alien simpletons. They collapse, unconscious. Ben doesn't even feel winded. He feels ready for more.

Then, he hears the weapons scrape from the floor, and click for loading. All blasters hover in the air.

"Ben?"

Ben's hit a wall, tightly-knit and surprisingly impenetrable. He draws back, temporarily unsure.

And then that wall begins to close in, constricting him.

"Ben - !" Poe hisses while staring straight ahead in the darkness.

Zaropf is not so patient. "Spread out now - !" he commands.

Their men bolt through either side of the hall, firing into the dark corridor. Distantly, Ben hears a few shots until some of theirs drop their weapons. Ben gasps. Their men grasp at their throats.

So this Force-user is strong, but trying to choke a half-dozen people at a time is too great a feat. He or she will tire –

Grinning at the scent of battle, Ben activates his lightsaber and charges forward. He throws out his senses for caution, penetrating the thick steam down the hall.

A red saber cuts through the swath. Ben deflects it in time, skidding to a halt.

Large slit eyes in a reptilian head appear from the dark. Venasto's Force signature is like winter, quiet and hollow. "Took you long enough, _my Lord_."

Ben inwardly measures the dimensions of this curving hallway. It accommodates his large form well enough, but it's still a perfect place for a trap. He carefully feels around for others.

One more.

With one hand – and his uncle's saber – at bay, Ben draws one of Rey's sabers out with his left in an impressive arc. "I could say the same…for Rutja."

The shape of a woman, all muscles and skin that gleams like blades, registers under the blue of Rey's sword. Rutja's own saber bathes her in blood red.

Dun Moch calls to Ben like an ally. Deflect and distract, with constant jeers. "Her stink burns all over this ship."

Rutja's stare is hard and unforgiving at the betrayal of her superior. "You talk of burning, _Skywalker_ filth?"

Venasto thinks he moves first, while Ben faces Rutja – but Ben is quicker.

Ben lashes out with both swords, a careful coordination between both attackers. Ben had practiced this before, a few times – not that he felt it was necessary for his monstrous skill to require two lightsabers, but having Rey's souvenir heightens his focus.

He allows the Ren Knights to back him down another hallway, the only light a violent storm of red and blue. His back is vulnerable. At least, that's what he lets them think.

Something painful like ice pricks at his neck. Khaili, the little snot, must be waiting for them.

Sneering at the amateurish strategy, Ben crosses both blades, pinning both Rutja's and Venasto's sabers together, and kicks Rutja in the gut. To further disarm them, he Force-pushes the pair until they slam into the far end of the hall.

Idiots, he thinks, turning to face –

A bare slit of a face, cavernous and mottled, like rotten fruit. A near chunk of flesh missing from the jaw, and gleaming, beetle-black eyes. The very image of death, frail, and yet the intelligence behind those eyes makes Ben Solo's strength crack and spill.

 _Snoke_ _._

Ssssssssssssssssss

Poe's arm is shot and he's pretty sure the front of his body's deteriorating. That's what he gets, he thinks bitterly, for running headfirst into an electromagnetic pulse launcher.

 _Rey's on this ship_ , he tells himself, body screaming for him to stay down. And Solo's living up to his stupid namesake, charging into the dark on his own and leaving them behind.

Their strike team's run into some bad company – way more bad than a simple band of skin traders and smelly smugglers. This is too organized, too First Order.

There's transmitter crackle underneath the shouts and weapons firing. " _Incoming, sir!"_

"Friendly?" Poe gasps, quickly bracing himself against a doorjamb.

" _Not sure, it's_ \- _strike that, it's a Stormtrooper carrier!"_

Poe, hunched against the wall, thinks of what else to do. Stormtroopers. It's been a trap all along. The First Order's been hiding in the black, just like the _Boshtar_ has.

In a spare second he doesn't think he can afford, Poe imagines the Boshtar has been torn apart by cannon fire.

He could keep fighting, and get shot and killed. Or he could sit here, weapons strapped to his hand and belt, and wait for whoever comes barreling down this hallway.

But he is Poe fucking Dameron and has been through ten times worse.

Still. He really wishes Ben Solo hadn't left him.

Sssssssssss

Ben is immobile. That minuscule ice prick at the back of his neck near-submerges him, freeing his heart.

No matter how afraid he is, right now, staring into the hollow caverns of the Supreme Leader's eyes, he will not fall back on old habits by calling him _master_.

"Y-You," he chokes out.

His former master is as tall as Ben is, always has been, more lean and unimaginably strong as wrought iron.

The chunk of missing flesh in his jaw melts into a sinister grimace. "Look how…proud you stand," he whispers. "My greatest triumph…and my most unexpected failure."

Ben is eight years old again and shaken from the most real nightmare he has ever felt. Screaming for his mother, even his father, whom he knows will not really be there for him.

"I knew we'd see each other again," the creature croons cruelly.

Ben is twelve and trying so badly to concentrate on his forms, and not the twisted images of his Jedi peers dead at his feet. These are images he cannot shake away.

"You – you're not here - !" Ben manages.

"Oh, I assure you, boy –"

Ben is fifteen, struggling to breathe. He thinks he's made a mistake, signaling to his secret correspondence: _they're here, all of them. You won't hurt them, though…? You'll let them join us._

Something breaks through his stomach, like teeth sinking into prey. Something metallic pierces the air.

He's so arrested by Snoke's awful face that he barely chokes at the wound. He's bleeding. The same wound he gave himself back on Sher'hatha. Snoke holds his own stiletto knife in Ben's gut as punishment, as a reminder.

The scar may have been gone, erased by Rey's healing, but Snoke will always get it back. All of it – all this time, thinking he was free - Snoke has simply taken his time.

"I am very real. And you have so much to answer for."

Sssssssssssssssssssss

The first ship that froze the Rodian ship in a tractor beam is under attack. A score of TIE fighters buzz and shriek like hawks, battering the resistance-operated ship out of position.

They don't see the next ship appear out of a cloaking device.

Ssssssssssssssssss

Rey's lightsaber dips to the ground. The tip singes the durasteel floor.

He doesn't feel the pain. It's worse – he feels like is slipping into a bacta tank.

"You're –" Ben is aghast. "You're – not here. It's –"

"Not impossible, my wayward apprentice." Snoke is curling his voice through Ben's entrails. "Kylo Ren, my first knight."

Stubborn, breaking confidence bubbles through. "No…no longer." He stumbles.

" _Always_. I'm inside you. You can't part from me. I _made_ you!"

Ben makes himself summon Rey's face. She faced Snoke herself, fought him, if only for it all to fail spectacularly. But she came for _Ben_. Her and Luke, to _save him_.

"You want to see her. Your new…idol."

Ben grips the saber at the mention of her.

"Ugghh!" he growls savagely, thrusting Rey's saber in a weakened upward slash.

Adrenaline of his pain blinds him to his senses. He's tried to attack his master before. Anguish and rage have made him lash out, but he had never been successful. His master is too strong, too powerful, too all-knowing.

Ben breathes heavily through his nose. Blood seems to travel back into his lungs. He won't have long until he has to cough up blood.

A few mishandled attacks and dodges leave him carving into the walls and ceiling. "Where is she?!"

Snoke cocks his head. "That feral little Jedi?"

Ben swings both sabers upward, poorly forgetting to cover his sides, when he is locked. The Force surrounds him in a vice grip.

He could spit on himself. Venasto and Rutja – Ben hasn't finished them.

The prince in Ben, the descendant of royalty and half-gods, smirks in distaste at the trap. He's better than them.

"You abandon your heritage, your throne!?" Snoke, deep and bellowing, demands. "For the embrace of that whore?"

The most surprising amount of rage at the insult causes Ben to wish for Snoke's painful death, more than he ever imagined in his life.

 _Focus focus focus. You've broken from these holds before._

Ben's Force sifts through the careful knitting Venasto and Rutja have conjured. He thinks quickly, putting his pain away, not thinking about it, to get free.

No, he must throw them off. In an instant, he collects all the pain, the doubt, the confusion in the past hour, the tidal wave of thoughts – failure – into their minds.

 _They think they're so clever, don't they_.

Both Ren Knights double over, writhing at the stinging mental attack. Ben is free momentarily, though he collapses to his knees. The sabers clatter to the ground, too.

Snoke has disappeared.

Frustrated, he casts a search for the nearest Force-user. No one; nothing

He turns to Venasto and Rutja. They're gone.

Incensed, Ben shoots to his feet. He touches the wound. His shirt is soaked. He has no time to heal it on his own.

"Ben!"

Eyes widen. It's Rey's voice.

 _It can't possibly -_

But then, like the sliver of a sun peeking from the horizon, so small but strong, her Light shines through. It's her. It's her - It has to be. Ben senses nothing but Rey's voice down the hallway.

 _I knew it, I KNEW IT -_

He deactivates both swords and runs, weakly, to her.

 _I'm here!_ He bellows inwardly. He screams this until his skull throttles.

He skids in front of a door. She's on the other side. Her Force signature is strong, warm and tingling, like sunlight. It radiates against the cold metal.

Pawing it, feeling its thickness, he stands back and claws his fingers, prying the door apart with the Force.

He struggles. The Force flickers. It yields, almost cowering under his fiery determination.

 _Please!_ He begs. Hot tears of frustration trickle down, though he thinks it's sweat.

No, stop, he must calm; take a deep breath -

 _Ben!_

 _Get her out. Get her out, get out of this ship - disappear._

He tries again. The thick wall begins to pry open, peeling inch by inch. It's still not enough.

Blood trickles out of him. Ben begins to feel just how badly hollow the wound is.

Pain is what drives your power, Snoke used to remind him. And oh, is it true. His body is wreathed in old injuries that attested to his victory. It is a Dark Side tactic -

But Ben cannot stow the pain away anymore. He must take it – he's failing. He needs it now.

Letting himself scream, Ben calls on that pain. He lets it wreck his nerves, short-circuiting until he thinks he could burst into flames. Everything hurts, but he forces it all out, through his fingertips.

The door becomes red-hot, turning into ore.

 _Rey, I'M COMING!_

The door peels open.

Her prone form is the first thing she sees. It takes time for his mind to catch up on her shape – human, young, lean and long legs, brown hair looped in some hairstyle.

She's only been gone from his sight in a few days. He bolts to her. She looks asleep, or knocked out.

"Rey!" he pulls her in his arms, searching her face. She is terribly limp; peaceful, unharmed.

Until his hand brushes against cauterized flesh.

Ben gapes, disbelieving. He struggles to swallow – he sounds like a lumbering beast, bent over her - and look down. He doesn't want to. If he can imagine that it's not there.

But it glares at him, smoking and raw. A lightsaber wound right between her ribcage.

Ben shudders. " _Ohhhhh_." He cannot breathe. This is the torment he had pretended wouldn't happen.

She's not even – cold. She still feels so…

His soft mouth peels into a beastlike grasp of agony. "Rey. Rey, swe…sweetheart," he whispers, feeling so foolish for the too-late sentiment. He is too late.

Feeling desperate – he cannot breathe - he kisses her, just at the corner of her mouth. As if that will bring her back to life.

Her skin is like the finest paper silk. Even the scent of her closes in on his emotions.

 _Too late!_ The darkness in his screams. _Too late, she's gone!_

The shadows in his soul plunge forward. The ship begins to tremor and groan.

Something wet – not his tears – falls on her face. His hair. Rain falls out of nowhere.

The dull lights of the ship dim until the space opens. Dark gray skies make their surroundings grow cold.

They're in a rain-soaked field, run through with mud. The ground, at first, looks uneven.

Bodies. Jedi robes, Padawan hairstyles, and lightsabers scattered nearby their fallen owners. Life-forms larger than Chewbacca, horned, tentacles, three-clawed hands…women. Younglings, no weapons nearby.

Ben swallows, clutching Rey's form tighter. As if her dead corpse will comfort him. He remembers: _they had tried to run._

Ben was fifteen and he had watched. Watched as the younglings all tried to run and hide. They knew. They knew they couldn't fight, or help. They knew all they could do was hide.

In that space, Ben begins to tremble.

He had watched dumbly, not even sure it was really happening, until he saw the man he summoned – Xolon Ren – swoop in from the dark, invisible beforehand. A spell of concealment.

Ben had simply watched while Xolon swung his blade, sweeping down the younglings.

He begins to hoist Rey closer to him, struggling on screaming legs to stand. But he can't.

 _This_ is the trap.

The crumpled, dead forms on the ground begin to move. In the lightning, he sees limbs suddenly animated, struggle to stand. And come his way.

 _Traitor_ , they say.

"No," Ben begs. He hears the pathetic mewl in his voice, childlike and weak. "I – I tried – "

"You let them destroy us!" Jarie's silver-clear voice shouts through the rain.

"No!" Ben's throat feels torn. "I wanted – "

"We raised you to be greater than all of us."

Luke Skywalker, haggard and still noble, can be seen staring deeply into Ben's soul with his starry, prophetic blue eyes.

 _Uncle_ – Ben wants to call out. He had forgotten how that face gazed upon him with such love, moments before his death.

 _I'm sorry - !_

And then a hand seizes his throat. Eyes bulging, Ben looks down.

Rey's eyes are slits, piercing him with a disgusted glare unlike anything he's seen before.

 _Rey_ , he thinks softly. _You're –_

"You always were so obvious. So desperate for affection – for _love_ – " she spits out.

Something awful twists inside him. The words are like venom coming from her. How could she - ?

She leans forward until she's dangerously close to his lips. "So ready to submit to _her_ touch."

And, disgustingly, her youthful, sweet features warp to Snoke's.

Ben claws and shoves her/it away. His movements are so sluggish. His wound is catching up to him.

Snoke climbs over him, pinning him down with her/its foot.

"I should have ended you when I had the chance. Should have corrupted _her_ first. But you held such promise, boy…so much darkness. And your compassion was so easy to manipulate."

The monster that is half-Rey, half-Snoke reaches down to touch his forehead.

This is what had near-destroyed Rey, almost a month ago. The twisted, bastardized form of a Memory Walk, visiting her most tender and awful memories and making her swallow them all over again.

She had entrusted him to overcome it all, to make her stronger. She had shown him…so much.

It was _her_ compassion that had become his undoing. His rebirth.

And he had trained her thinking only _she_ would kill his former master.

Disgust and hatred flood back into him – his most common sensations, more parental than his hero mother and father. Something he had tried to keep dormant now threatens to burst through. Ben's Jedi training struggles to smother it down, just for a little longer.

But all of it – seeing the woman he knows he loved – he _loved_ her, loves her _still_ \- devoid of life in his arms – lets go.

Ben cannot hide from himself any longer.

His hand is only strong enough to grasp the abomination's ankle. Forcing all of the crackling power, unleashed and eclipsed from the Light Side it had chafed under, Ben lets himself burn, hotter than before.

Because she still has _her_ eyes, Ben closes his own, unable to watch.

Rivulets of angry blue streaks run up the woman's leg, until even her eyes spark. Force-Lightning scours her body until she/it shrieks and stumbles, quaking, releasing Ben from her grip.

Ben shakes inwardly at the rush of left-behind dominance. He feels almost whole again. Sitting up, he holds out his hand to ward her/it off.

 _No,_ he thinks. So tired. The cold floor is warm like a bed. _This compassion…I have been made stronger by it._

 _Ssssssssssssssssssssssss_

The unlit hallway of the Rodian ship smells like burnt flesh and metal. Sounds of the skirmish begin to fade – it's almost over. Help has arrived.

Something rolls busily through the hall, followed by a male life-form in blast-dampening armor. He carries a blaster with a visi-light fused at the end of the barrel.

"BB-8, slow down," he whispers. "I can't see anything."

The next warbles and chirps are followed by the tearing of a nearby console, the soldier standing by nervously as it fuses and rearranges the necessary wires.

Emergency lights shoot through the hall overhead, flickering unsteadily to reveal a blood-flecked, smoking trail to a torn-open door, and –

Finn nearly drops his weapon.

"Holy _kark_ ," he swears.

Ben Solo's shirt is covered in blood, where he lies unconscious in the middle of a blackened floor. Even the walls and ceiling have molded by what must have been fire or electricity, like a massive short-circuiting.

Finn's first instinct is to run over, until he fully registers the dangerous appearance around the man. He turns to where he came from and bellows, "CHEWIE!"


	42. Chapter 42

The Call to the Light

Chapter 42

Edited 12-4-2017

 _Author's note: I may have rushed through this so you guys don't have to wait longer._

ssssssssssssss

In the cavern of Ben's subconscious, echoes of the past and present intersect. They bounce and roll throughout, an ongoing wave of sounds and hurried murmurs.

" _It will come to you when you're ready," says a voice, on the fringe of his mind – he should know this voice. He had thought it was his own in his head._

" _Ben, sweetheart – " his father. Han Solo, gruff and strangely vulnerable, who always called his boy that intimate endearment. This beseeching tone is an irritating glare in his memory: "You know I love you, no matter what, right? No matter – "_

" _There, you see?" the Mirialan who introduced himself as Xolon tells him, while Ben looks empty-eyed at Jarie. "Your first kill. Well done –"_

"Kriff, they're both banthas!" Someone young now, strained from effort.

"What if he – you know – "

"I don't think he could, you know, do _that_ in this state," the same voice mutters, not sounding so sure himself.

"Still, be careful!" the first speaker, male and authoritative. "Go help _him_ , get the medkit - !"

These two, arguing hotly, solidify in Ben's memory as Finn and Poe. His feelings of them emerge groggily: he hates them.

No, it's not that. He hates himself being near them. And now his mind is making the realization that they are swearing over him, carrying him. Like he's _needed_.

A self-loathing reminder slithers into the present: whenever Snoke concluded punishing him – whenever Ben was so wrung out, broken and bleeding, unable to limp away - he always woke in his own room. Someone had to have done it. Perhaps even a team of droids. The lack of humanity in that categorization, compared to this ridiculous moment, evokes a sick warmth that makes Ben uncomfortable.

If he keeps his eyes closed for longer, maybe these two fumbling boneheads won't notice and leave him alone.

But then his injuries flare to life, making the calm, dark peace in his head burn like hot lead.

The horrors before he passed out are on the fringes, threatening to reinvade. They had attacked and boarded the Rodian ship. He had left Poe behind to deal with the blasterfire, but Finn – it _is_ his voice -

But there is a stench of scorched fur and a low, pained wail nearby. It's so close that it makes Ben shake in concern.

"Chewie, come on!" Finn says shakily. "Just – open your eyes, big guy – "

Ben _shoots_ up.

There, stretched haphazardly, barely conscious himself, is Chewbacca. The closest Ben has been to him since, no, before Luke Skywalker's burial. The aged Wookie is veined in damaged skin, both reddened and blackened by…by –

"What happened?" Ben's throat rasps. In his instinct, he cannot avoid the tremble underneath the words.

Finn whips around and gapes. "Shit. I should be asking – "

Ben can barely feel his feet even as he swings them over the carrier's bench. "What. _Happened_. To him?"

He pointedly ignores how his uncle, guardian and storyteller (a gentle _tree_ of a biped), smells awfully of burns. Electrical burns.

Finn licks his lips. "We found you and – well, he went to grab you, and then someone – I didn't see – just shot an elecro-current right at the two of you. Chewie got the most of it."

Ben's only half-listening. He already knew, of course. The gravest of efforts are made to keep his composure in front of someone he still considers inferior. Inside, Ben is screaming. _What have I DONE!?_

As a testament to how far he has fallen, to how greatly he has cost everyone's safety, Ben stumbles over to where the great beast lies.

"Kriff, there's a medkit somewhere – sorry " and with that, Finn half-stomps, half-scurries away, not realizing until long after that he really only snapped to his senses to give Ben and the very wounded Wookie some _privacy_.

Meanwhile Ben's breaking mind is trying to reason Chewbacca's…helplessness. Chewbacca is never still. He either fidgets, growls, roars, chuffs, even shifts in his sleep (visions of the Wookie angling his long-limbed body in a worn chair as Ben rests on the sofa, sick with the flu while his mother must finalize an education bill - ). This still, stunned form makes him look eerily like a stuffed animal doll Ben had cast aside on the floor, rumpled and lifeless.

 _Ben!_ His father once called out, the phantom name barking across the bridge, echoing in the abyss.

His father. Chewie was never, ever far behind. _You are my son, too_ –

A lump the size of an asteroid nearly chokes Ben, his vision swimming.

 _No. I cannot bear this – I will not be punished in this way._

There is one thing Ben can do. He can remedy this, if only he is brave and patient enough to try.

"Uncle," he whispers, voice cracking, penitent and crushing to his knees. His hands reach out. _I trust the Light. Let it claim me, clean me of my sins. Take my body, and heal his, please._

 _Uncle, forgive me._

sssssssssss

Still shaken from the Mirialan's interrogation, Rey wordlessly follows Jirah to a part of the ship she has never seen. Jirah avoids looking back at Rey, who is immediately occupied with the change in temperature. This side is so warm, so deliciously thick in it that Rey thinks she is shivering. She flexes her still-shaking hands, flecked with blood. Her knuckles are tight from clenching the Togruta's horn. Her head.

She just carried a head halfway through a ship, and left it behind on the floor like a melon unfit for market. Kriff.

Jirah stops in front of a door and hesitates. " _We will not be alone here,_ " she warns.

Rey is tired and wants to rest, and her saber-singed cheek ticks in irritation, but the apprehension in the lovelier woman's eyes makes her wary. So paranoid of which Force-sensitives can pick up on their conversation, or if there are listening devices scatted through the ship, Rey carefully _imagines_ she is putting up her shields.

 _Can you speak and hear my thoughts? Without others hearing us? Can you hide?_

Jirah backs away a step, skittish at the treasonous suggestions.

"Jirah," Rey soothes. This poor woman; this poor young mother. Rey's voice nearly breaks into a whimper. " _It will be all right. Let me promise you that_."

It's such a paltry vow, but it seems the world for the woman tied to the monster of this ship. Nodding, Jirah presses her hand to a lock scanner. The door slides open to reveal a furnished room. Peering inside after Jirah's invitation, Rey sees a low table, threadbare seating cushions, and even a rug that brushes tenderly against her worn, frozen feet.

Items imported in a scattered variety – mooja paste, pickled goran beets, sweetened dried yoe plums – lay invitingly in bright colors. Hunger uncurls out of her chest.

It's a small space, but there are enough comforts to make it feel the most like a home that Rey has experienced since waking up on this ship. She nearly buckles, her resolve chased out by wantonness.

And then there are the people who join them later: there is the thirteen-year-old Sallustran, face and neck shriveled from the Zabrak woman's fire. Rey thinks she is seeing things when said Zabrak comes in and passes the burned girl utensils to spread across the table – and sits next to her.

She stares determinedly at her plate of warm food. _What the kark is going on._

And then, one of the Iktotchi twins she had shown to heal her brother comes in to sit across from her. He kindly adjusts himself between the girl and the Zabrak; like _he_ _hadn't_ tortured the Cerean, or Rey.

Sensing Rey's discomfort, Jirah hurriedly introduces them. "Nialys," she says in heavily accented Huttese, pointing to the Zabrak, and the Sallustran girl, "Siele." She gestures to the Iktotchi twin. "Jua'nef. Brother is Jua'nul."

Jua'nul must be the one Rey had the brother, Jua'nef, heal.

Rey swallows. She is surrounded by potential Darksiders – at the very least, people who have been conditioned to kill or maim. Anything they find disagreeable in her, and Rey isn't sure what the consequences could be.

Still. Her survival instincts war with her hunger. Both needs cloud her judgment and she digs in, barely a polite pace away from the others. She's thrown up enough times on the D'Qar Resistance base after stuffing her face in the mess to know to slow down, but her body is so empty and it _aches_.

No one speaks. The busy scraping of utensils draws Rey's attention, making her snap in realization. This – this domesticity jars with where she had woken up hours ago, and the violence that had awaited her every day before.

The imagined vision plays in her head before she can stop it: Ben, Kylo Ren, anywhere from fifteen to twenty, so terribly young in his new life as a murderer in an evil cult. Did he wonder in moments like these, eating in a mess with the other Knights of Ren (assuming he didn't always remain in solitude like a greedy, overdramatic dragon), how normal everything seemed, until his next bloodthirsty mission? Did he feel confused at making conversation, or kindly having to ask someone to pass the bread bowl?

She hasn't washed her hands before eating – admittedly, a new practice Leia had pointed out to her – and yet the blood stains are still there, from picking up the Togruta woman's head. She can even smell it as she brings fruit and morsels between her fingers to her mouth.

 _That's it, then,_ something echoes deep inside her, pulling at near-invisible cords that draw out revulsion and vindictiveness _. You are no different than him._

The wrongness of it all makes Rey slow her chewing, hastily emptying her thoughts. She won't get wrapped into this domestic comfort while Lorra and the others lie captive and suffering.

And Joah –

The dull, unimpressive kitchen knife catches her eye eventually. There is no second thought to reaching for it – no discretion, either -

The Iktotchi boy, Jua'nef, senses her desire and lunges forward. Rey starts, her wrist clutched by the teen's grip.

(The Force, always the Force, like she's _forgotten_ ).

The whole table goes dead quiet. The Sallustran girl even stops chewing.

Jua'nef stares at her wordlessly, mildly surprised to see this treason so early.

Letting the young man think she is remorseful, Rey lets him take the knife from her. She knows the Force is out of her grasp, but here is an unforgivable reminder of how utterly powerless she is.

She does not look at Jirah, only presses against her as a sign: _I need that knife._

For now, she must apologize. Finn (she thinks sadly) would always stumble his way into or out of any awkward situation. Poe's just so naturally charming that all he'd have to do is open his mouth.

She must appear contrite. She must continue fooling this den of barbarous nexus.

Caution and politeness never hurt. " _How is your brother?"_ she asks.

Jua'nef blinks at Rey like he isn't sure anyone's ever addressed him before. " _He rests. He is fine_."

Rey keeps her reaction mild. " _Good. You did well, by the way_."

Everyone is carefully silent until the Sallustran girl, Siele, asks in a whispered chirp. "What happened?"

No one is inclined to answer her, the scrape of wooden utensils the only attempt.

Rey is obligated to try. " _The brother got hurt. I know how to heal. I can't now. So_ – "

" _Do not –_ " Jua'nef mutters, suddenly tense.

Rey is more perplexed by how desperate they feel they must be quiet. Can the Mirialan hear them, out here? Sense them?

Rey blinks. " – _So I showed Jua'nef here how to heal him_."

Siele holds her utensil midway to her lips. "You mean…Force healing? Like the –"

"Jedi," Nialys, the Zabrak, finishes evenly. "She's a real Jedi, just like Xolon says. I've heard about you."

Rey stops chewing. Xolon; so that's his name.

The name for her primary enemy aside, Rey minutely basks in how the woman said the words "real Jedi." Pride, and the reminder of how she met Han Solo, Leia Organa and Luke Skywalker, make Rey hide a little grin in her tea. A lifetime ago, she remembers: This _is the Millenium Falcon?...Luke Skywalker? I thought he was a myth!_ There is reverence in her status, leverage for her plan to escape.

They're able to settle into a slightly relaxed pace through supper. Although it's pungent in the air that their comrade, the Togruta, is dead at Rey's hands, no one mentions it…at least not until Rastro finds them.

The scrappy Zabrak barges in, his presence jarring compared to the devout, patient followers of Xolon Ren.

Rey's just reached for a third bread roll. She hesitates at how Rastro's boots plant themselves at her very vulnerable left side. She feels the tense rage tightening Rastro's form. He must know by now, that Rey murdered his lust-object.

 _Let him try and scare me_ , she thinks grouchily.

Confidence that she's adapted after her Jedi training misplace Rey's ability to protect herself. In an instant she should have predicted, lack of Force powers be damned, Rastro stomps on her thigh; it's been exposed like a wing in her cross-legged position.

Rey howls in pain. The knife is too far away – without thinking, she holds out her hand to summon it into her grip, which it _does not do_.

In any case Rastro has his wiry, lethal arms around her neck, his fingers squeezing her jaw.

Scrapes of utensils and the table erupt around Rey, who is blind with pain.

"Proud of yourself, _pateesa_?" he snarls into her crown. "She was mine, you bitch – "

She notices another pair of legs. Above her, Jua'nef holds the same knife he confiscated from Rey at Rastro's neck.

"Out. Or you die." Jua-nef says in Basic.

Rey's throat and jaw are released, leaving her moaning and wanting so badly to kick something. A curtain of murderous thoughts makes her blank of all rationale, and she hears Rastro stomp away.

 _Weak_ , she feels that same pull in her say. _So weak…_

When supper is over, Jirah shuffles Siele and Nialys away to clean the dishes herself. Nialys takes one indifferent look at Rey and helps her to her feet, letting her follow at a limp to a sleeping chamber.

Jirah is left alone. Her brand of loyalty is different than these trained killers. Though Rey will think Jirah is too afraid to help her escape, this is not true.

Losing her consciousness in some usual, menial task – something that would easily bore Jirah's master, and the ghostlike presence Xolon answers to, in secret, the phantom that lurks above them all like a dream-god – Jirah cleans the kitchen knife and puts it under her dress. She leaves the kitchen and goes to where Rey sleeps, alone. Chained by one wrist, naturally. They still don't trust the Jedi.

Sssssssssssssss

In dreams, Joah's anxious whisper howls into Rey's mind.

 _When?_ He asks. All Rey wants to do is drift in half-dreams, to drown in the pleasure of food in her heavy belly, where it belongs. _Now?_

Still asleep, Rey stirs grumpily. _Not yet. Where's the pilot?_

 _No pilot_ , Joah replies. He is the pilot. _Xolon. When he's done talking to the voice._

 _Voice? Who?_ Although it suddenly seems obvious that Rey has an idea.

 _Xolon calls him Supreme Leader._

ssssssssssssss

It's dark when Rey wakes up. Her thigh – the non-implant one, the one Rastro stomped on – throbs. Her throat is tight from Rastro's rage, but a non-Force sense has her shuffle around to face Xolon Ren.

The stony, brutal Mirialan Knight of Ren glowers down, the dim lighting masking his otherwise expressionless features. Rey thinks he's staring at her, but then movement from behind her signals Jirah's dyed robes whisper across the floor.

Jirah reaches out to Xolon's hand in a resigned manner. Before she can lead her master out the room, Xolon holds her back, unmoving. Something terribly cold seems to seep in the entire room.

Rey's skin crawls. The last time this happened, she was staring into Snoke's dead, empty eyes.

She starts to crawl away, until Xolon Force-freezes her in place.

 _No_ \- ! Rey thinks desperately. If her heart could sink any further, it practically disappears.

"Girl," Xolon says. "Open her mind to me."

It is a mark of Jirah's conditioning that she obeys without protest. But not immediately; she first plucks into Rey's mind and dusts away thoughts of rebellion that her master – or the voice that sometimes possesses him – can't otherwise pick up.

It takes almost no time until Jirah reaches out to Rey, arm barely quivering. On the floor, Rey feels her mind freshly torn open, like a piece of fruit.

She's helpless as something seismic rattles her bones and even tangles her nerves. Fraught, she grits out the invading pressure.

 _JEDI_.

His voice; like a deadly wind howling over mountains, hollow as graveyards. Rey moans, unable to hide her fear.

Snoke is inside her head.

SPINELESS FILTH. YOU THINK YOU CAN CRAWL INTO MY RANKS UNNOTICED. I SEE EVERYTHING, KNOW EVERYTHING.

Rey has no escape, no well of relief to turn to. Her training with Ben on the coast in Sher'hatha – the opposite memories of her fear – are unreachable, frozen in some stowed-away place.

YOU THINK YOU'RE SAFE WITH HIM - PROTECTED.

Ben. Before Rey can draw out his sensitive face –

It's peeled back in rage, terrible and wretched. Sweaty and teeth bared, his shoulders move in great, sudden motions.

 _Ben!_ Rey drinks in his face, the familiar unsightly curl of his lips in a snarl. The whites of his eyes blazing, at war with his dark, bottomless irises. _Who's hurting you_? Rey thinks at first –

Until she sees that the movements he makes are entirely dominant, violent, and bloodthirsty. All of his boundless energy is tapped into destroying something, someone:

Rey.

It's her body – hers - that lies hacked to mere pieces. She thinks it is at first some young woman's. Between hurried, vibrant flashes of the vision, a series of flipping pages, Rey sees parts she knows are hers; that's her hand, cast aside, and her scar across her breastbone, her belly, where blood spatters and pooling everywhere, all so _wet_ and _gleaming_. The corpse makes these ugly, awful, gurgling, moaning-whimpering sounds. The blinding-hot scarlet of Kylo Ren's blade slices the dark air, leaving Rey (who can't seem to breathe) blink furiously in concentration.

Rey shudders. She thinks for a wild, cold moment that he is doing this to her right now. She can't move, she can't _think_. The man whose face she has caressed looks upon her with such vile ferocity – a slap in the face, after all the tenderness she has elicited from him.

It is something she will not be able to forget.

The voice does not let her go: HE WANTS SO DESPERATELY TO BE RID OF YOU. HE WILL DO WHATEVER IT TAKES. WHATEVER –

A younger, softer Ben Solo, a teenager in Jedi robes, wildly holds out his sword against another Jedi, a lovely teenage Zabrak, whose slack expression suggests he has gutted her ( _No! Stop…)_

IT –

The mask of Kylo Ren amid a storm of blaster shots, impassive. The same mask displaying an utter lack of care for the bloodied, agonized Poe – Ben's own face, his lovely features showing no mercy as the tendons and vertebrae in Finn's body are sliced swiftly open.

TAKES – TO RUIN YOU.

These visions burn in Rey's mind, and she cannot look away: another of a field of corpses, scattered and glowing like embers. Kylo Ren – Ben – holds out his hand, drawing in their ashes, inhaling it all like some twisted live deity – all those dead –

Another one of General Leia, her braided chair tumbled out around her face; she's crumpled on the floor, her neck at a garish, lethal angle. Ben – no, it's Kylo - stands over her, inspecting something bloody. Another blink, and Rey realizes it is Leia's hear, torn out.

 _Noooooo!_

And here – here, it is the worst. Rey is almost naked, and sobbing. Face streaked with tears, blood caked along her temple. Above her is Ben, without his clothes, poised with the same stiletto blade he had pushed into his own gut a month ago. He holds it high above his head, ready to drive it into her heart.

No. He wouldn't.

And Rey believes it, truly. At first.

Lightning-flash, the scene tears into a single swift action – Ben's arms make a pyramid with that blade, a dead thing, glinting in its malice. The pyramid shape of Ben's corded arms drive down, down, down - !

Rey is sure she feels her chest cavity break, her body bleed.

 _No!_ Rey moans from within. _He loves –_

HE LOVES YOUR POWER! Snoke roars.

sssss

….And on the edge of all this, Jirah's head stings like ice. This intensity is too much for her to bear. She loses concentration.

Her shields flicker. Her motherly panic draws the face of the most important thing -

And this is where Xolon, whose control has been like iron, cold and heavy, lifts. He blinks sharply at the woman, his servant and tool. _Not possible._

Right now he acts as a host to the Supreme Leader, channeling his master's presence through Jirah and into Rey. Jirah, invaluable in her gifts with the Force, has always been docile in her temperament, trodden by fear to never, _ever_ betray him.

But he picks up her stress, and the strain of a memory floating nearby, within his reach to pluck: Jirah speaks to the Jedi, Rey.

And Rey speaks the name of a boy whose skill in the Force _triples_ that of his current potentials.

"Joah?" He's here. That rat of a child, that coward.

In his now-tightened grasp, Jirah flinches. Wide-eyed panic hasn't stricken her lovely, serene features since she finally surrendered to Xolon's will.

The connection from Snoke to Rey is severed, leaving her gasping and cradling her head. The visions leave her wrecked and shaking. Snoke's presence hasn't yet slithered completely out of her.

And when she hears the door to the room slam shut, her eyes snap open to see that Xolon – and Jirah – are gone.

Eyes shut tight, begging to escape her own mind – her own memory – Rey struggles to bring air through her mouth. Ben. He would _never_ – !

She doesn't think about the other images as much (and later, this will drown her in guilt, but not now). Rey's strength doesn't seep from her bones like blood at the sight of Leia Organa, her guardian, her corpse mocking her warmth while her grown child towers over her in morbid triumph. Not even the ash of the dead make Rey feel faint.

 _He would never, EVER hurt me. You know this. He cares…he wouldn't…_

But in a quick moment, Rey realizes the snap of the door closing means that Jirah is gone, too. That's enough to lure the broken Jedi out of this spiral.

 _Quick. You CANNOT do this now._ Chained to the floor and exposed to Snoke, the game is definitely over. _Get up. It's time._

Ssssssssssssssssssss

There is an impassive door with a complicated security scan between Joah and the cockpit. A child his age can figure out only Xolon can get past that security scan.

He doesn't want to be in the engine room. It's too loud and –

 _Kid! JOAH!_

Rey's voice rattles inside him. He has to cover his ears; not because she's loud, but she sounds broken.

Joah squeezes the kyber crystals Rey gave him, until the edges dig into his skin.

Rey blabbers out: _He's coming - Xolon knows! HIDE!_

And then he hears a voice that makes his knees buckle. _Joah!_ His mother, his MOTHER, calls out desperately. His mother hasn't spoken his name, not unless she's dreaming, in so long. Joah begins to cry.

 _Joah_ , Rey's voice rings urgently, collected and orderly. _The kyber crystals. Now_.

The sharp, even command sinks little Joah into reality. Without thinking – Joah's still a boy, after all – he takes two calming breaths and stifles his presence, disappears into plain sight, and scampers through the halls of the ship to the engine room.

Ssssssssssssssssssssss

 _Lorra's going to kriffing kill me_ , Rey notes, grateful for the distraction to anchor her. Right now, there's no way to escape the room. Not unless she's able to break half the bones in her hand to slip out the chain against the wall.

She kicks and flails about, a caged animal ready to upturn anything nearby. There has to be a tool somewhere – anything!

There's movement from the other side of the room. Rey's eyes lock onto inky, glittering ones belonging to Siele.

Rey's mind blanks. The minor, treasonous act with the kitchen knife rings between them. Would this 13-year-old girl try to stop her?

Rey can't bring herself to speak her name, only dare to shake her head, pleading, _please no_.

Siele looks just as arrested as Rey. In the semi-dark, her slight shadowy form shifts and disappears. Rey is left alone again.

Her spine tingles. Rey supposes that breaking her hand will have to do, for now. But that could take too long - !

There is a clatter against the floor. A glint of something familiar makes Rey stare in disbelief. Under Jirah's pillow, the same kitchen knife waits.

Clarity offers to calm Rey a bit. She scans ideas on what to do with it while she furiously stretches out her foot to snatch it, kick it carefully over to her free hand. She's shuffled upward to inspect what manner of lock she can try to pick with the thin, sharp object.

She pauses, closes her eyes, and shakes her head. Stupid. Utterly stupid. Her leg.

The implant.

Sssssssssssssss

The heat and sound assaults Joah's senses, making him lose concentration on his hiding trick. The kyber crystals are imprinted into his palm, every jagged facet.

What did Rey call the large spinny thingies? Twin ion engines? And all he has to do is throw the rocks into them?

Just as he knocks his arm back, elbows braced, his mother's captor – the monster with the two voices – filters through the screech of the engines: _Pull apart this entire ship until you find him. And bring him to me._

 _And I know you can hear me, boy. Come and save your mother, if you can._

Joah is in a fog of choices. He is six, maybe even seven years old, yet he is in more control over what happens on this purgatory of a vessel than ever before.

He wants Rey to tell him what to do. He's scared, so scared of making the wrong choice that he is left crippled.

The problem is, he left the door open.

"Hey!" two of the guards, a shorter alien and a massive Twi'lek, barge through. They see the twin engines spin madly, uninterrupted, and the half-starved boy clenching something in his little fist.

They hold their blasters up. "Easy does it, you little, shit – "

Joah whips around and throws the kyber crystals in. The back of his neck tingles hotly. He shuts his eyes and begs whatever allows him to stay safe, whatever invisible angel-guardian, he can't explain it other than knowing that it's there – to get him out of there. He thinks of another place to hide.

He distantly feels the deathly heat of an explosion at his side, but he's already vanished into thin air.

sssssssssss

Rey needs the Force more than ever. She must cut – now.

One swift stab will do the job fine. She feels around for the implant bump in her leg, much like she's seen the Resistance bunkmates squeeze a lazy sweat-cyst or an acne spot.

Securing her thumb and forefinger around it, she holds up the knife. As long as she cuts around it, she won't risk any electrical matter irritating raw muscle and organic tissue – she can't be expected to handle an infection.

She plunges the blade in: _thunk!_

At once, something – the thing from before – wriggles away. Almost deeper into the bone of her leg. A sharp shard of panic cleaves her nerves. For an erratic moment, Rey thinks she is one with the Force again, because she knows how to hone in on other beings' feelings, but…this radiates from her leg, tiny but resilient. What is it, inside her?

" _Ughhh_ ," Rey shudders. Nope, _not_ a good idea, _at all_. Blood spurts so fast she can barely see the wound. Then the numbness snaps into action and it stings. She can't even push another inch deeper.

The Force-dampener…it may not be mechanical. Rey is reminded of the tsalmiri, and the little lizard pet Niall kept to subdue Ben in that alleyway. This implant in her leg may be a _living thing_. It wriggles through her muscles in such a careless way that Rey lets a pitiful whimper escape.

Tears well in quickly. Tears and blood overflow and threaten to stop her.

This is impossible. Rey's known pain, but in this instance, adrenaline is not as impossibly high as in the heat of battle. She has to _do this_.

 _Carve around._

Inhaling one big breath, clamping her lip with her teeth, Rey pushes the handle around. One-quarter of a circle.

The ship lurches off-kilter suddenly. Instinctively, Rey curls her free arm to cover her head as she and the remains of furniture in the room jump a few feet at an upsetting angle: tell-tale signs that the ship has been hit, or an internal combustion. _This is impossible!_

The entire room groans. The constant humming, the life of every ship, dies. The engines are definitely down. They'll have to land, immediately. Rey hopes that Xolon is practical – as dramatic as the Knights of Ren are with their stupid masks and armor, she better hope he doesn't turn them all into hopeless martyrs.

Determination curdles with madness now. She must keep going, or they'll all die. Rey's blood has stained a stream down her entire leg, bubbling onto the floor. Metallic tang runs in the air.

Dizziness comes in. It's a heavy, deafening sensation. Rey squelches another pathetic, wet cry.

Half circle. She stops to try and wiggle the curved flesh. It's like the gruesomeness of a broken bone.

 _I ate today_ , Rey thinks, just as she has to lean against the wall. The promise of energy stored in her belly makes her flex her hot, numb fingers on the hilt. _Keep….going._

She makes one more daring saw-like move, and feeling – _hearing_ her own skin get caught on the serrated blade like it's cloth, does sick things to her brain. She will throw up, soon.

But then she peeks the "flap" open, using the knife, and sees it.

The white of her bone flashes dangerously in Rey's eyes. She can't unsee this. She needs to stare at it even longer, just to be sure….

There _is_ durasteel, strangely enough. But something shiny – glossy – slides out of her already-clouding vision. She feels the infernal thing against her bone. She can actually feel it now, how rigid the thing is.

Then a white-hot pain that screams into her soul to stop. There is a wiggling tremor along something so sensitive and delicate (it's her nerve, but she doesn't know that – she's never had to look inside her own viscera before).

This is too complicated, to bloody, _bloody_ complicated.

Unless there was a surgeon onboard, there's no way Rey can remove the implant now. A waste of it, all of it. And now she's bleeding heavily.


	43. Chapter 43

The Call to the Light

Chapter 43

By TheOneAndOnlySlayer

Edited December 2017

Sssss

The minute their carrier ship sets inside the _Boshtar's_ hanger, Ben casts one last, pained look at an unconscious (slightly Force-healed) Chewie before marching away toward the ramp. He doesn't take notice of the new garrison of strangers, all who seem to center near Finn, who commands them with a sense of protectiveness.

It is…a small relief to feel so many sensations inside of Ben. He is sure he is part-drunk, part rampant with his thoughts and two very different types of energies pulling him to and fro. The reality is baffling: within a few hours of time he has executed two wildly opposite powers, powers he never, ever expected in his ambitions to perform: healing, something his allegiance as a former Darksider cites as out of normal behavior, and – and Force Lightning.

Force Lightning.

He shivers more pointedly from the cold of space. Force Lightning is a certain…decorative form of punishment to Snoke. Ben knows this, and it has been terrifying for him…to have experienced it.

He knows hatred like the beat of his heart. His discipline is unmatched in almost all the Darksiders he has fought with, save Snoke himself. To have summoned it on complete impulse…to have electrocuted someone until they burned to a crisp…

…To have attacked Chewie while _barely_ conscious…

Maker. Ben has never felt more like a time bomb than right kriffing now. He needs that private conference room, to think! And to focus. He is sure he will rip something – or someone – in two.

Finn is kind enough to stay his burning curiosity, but the precious pilot makes his way forward to Ben's retreat. "What the _kriff_ was that, Solo?"

"Do _not_ deter me," Ben all but growls. "There is something I must do."

"You said Rey would be _on_ that ship. What happened? Why'd you fuck up?"

"Guys," Finn interrupts. "Private, I think."

"Just what I was thinking." Ben turns with a quick snap of his singed cloak and glares at Poe to _shut up_. He refuses to speak another word. His mind, though – he cannot escape the thoughts there.

He's been _tricked_. He has been made a fool, a pathetic child exposed to the storm of his insecurities.

 _Rey was never there_. It was all a trick, an easy farce to fall into, and Ben, stupid Ben Solo, playing the good little Jedi, abandoned all logic and patience for the sake of his own fears and insecurities.

At once he feels his back burn with the presence of these two simpletons judging him. They don't _know_! It isn't fair - He held her, touched her cheek, smelled her hair –

And was obliterated by a manipulation of the Force, a visual manifestation. Of course he knew that complex technique: to create a vision and appear as another person.

Wild theories careen through his head: so who was the host? Venasto and Rutja could not have possibly conjured such an intricate trick. Certainly not Khaili, the impulsive little twat. Though, all three would have graciously allowed their master Snoke to possess them, in order to perform such a remarkably convincing feat to fool Kylo Ren himself.

It _was_ a trap. Ben Solo couldn't see, couldn't reason past the vision of his former comrades swooping in on Rey: too impulsive as usual, too aggressive in his frustrations to think straight.

They reach his chosen place of meditation. Ben Force-shoves the door open, making Poe and Finn flinch.

"You _told_ us Rey was going to be on that ship!" Poe demands.

"And I believed it!" Ben sneers back. "There were three Knights of Ren. I engaged them. Did your men not see them?!" His eyes widen at the realization. If they're still on board - ?!

Finn shakes his head, understanding. "I didn't see anybody when we found you. Except, you know, the…" crispy carcass, Finn thinks in what he thinks is the privacy of his own head. He realizes it's _not_ as private when Ben flinches in his direction.

"That Rodian ship's on a tractor beam," Poe adds. "It's on orders for destruction. No one's escaped. The only people we've captured are ten mercenaries on retainer for the First Order."

"Are you sure?" For a wild moment, Ben is reminded of the "others" Rey had blabbered about, other Force-Sensitives.

"Yeah, of course I'm sure!"

"There was…" Finn begins, before Ben can counter in Poe's simple-mindedness in the Force. He licks his lips when Poe switches his focus to him. "There was a…burned corpse next to you. Couldn't make it out."

There is a definitive heavy silence in the room. Ben has to hold back the wave of Dark Energy he knows _lingers_ underneath his fingers, scratching to be released. It had felt so good, so right: fighting back without having to _hold_ anything back. Making Snoke's face melt with Force Lightning (was this what toppling down statues of deities felt like?), all fury and righteousness – no bloodthirst except to avenge the woman he –

"What did you do?" Poe's tone is less accusing, replaced by something between awe and apprehension.

His back straightens, satisfied temporarily at this. "I was tricked." He allows this one confession among these men, Rey's brothers. Though he cannot look them in the eye. "I-I lost control."

"Snoke," Finn concludes, frowning.

Ben needs to do something with his hands. "It was a trap. I've kept him at bay for so long. He's always…when I was…still his," he struggled to form the right words. It pained him to think this way. "He could call to me from light-years away; peer into my mind. Ever since Skywalker and…"

Finn already knows everything. "You were shutting him out. Your mind shields, on Sher'hatha."

To Ben, it sounds close to pity. Surrounded by all who would misunderstand him, he will take it. "He waited until I was weak enough. Distracted."

His deep, sooty eyes rove over the transparisteel. The next move seems so clear. If he is brave enough. He must. He's killed whatever Ren Knight acted as a host, but the connection of the attack would have struck the Force-enabler. He retaliated at Snoke through his mental attack, he knows it. And he wants so badly to go in for the kill. His blood sings at the opportunity.

"Get out. Both of you."

The two men balk at his unkind order. Ben could curse – he was gracious enough to give them the free will to leave.

"He tried to confront me, frighten me. I _attacked_ him." His voice is so intense he is sure he's frothing at the mouth. "Now is the best chance to get into _his_ head."

The shadows of doubt that cast their faces leave no mistaken impression: they're afraid.

Something deeper than mere nervousness crosses Finn's face. Between the two of these men, Finn had actually listened to the more obscure lessons in the Force Rey and Luke wanted to share with him. "That's…not a good idea," he finally says. "She's not gonna like this."

"She can punish me all she wants." It's meant to be reassurance. Truthfully, Ben would happily throw himself at her feet and beg forgiveness for what he's about to do. "I know him better than either of you – than any man on this ship. Leave me for the next day."

Poe's all too satisfied to leave him, scowling. He has to pull at Finn's jacket, while the younger man sighs in heavy concern.

As the door hisses closed, Ben sinks to the ground, drawing the wells of his power, is fury, his potent beast of a soul snarling in the depths.

He cannot shy away; the Dark Side that has still been left in him _keens_ in freedom.

There are gates and locks strewn all through Ben's consciousness. Most have shuddered at the pressure – the spectre of his former self in that damp castle – later, swinging his sword at worthless skin-traders, staring down at their corpses in satiety. Now he fingers at these barriers, unleashing just a few.

His mouth arches open in a gasp. Dark, potent energy that hasn't been tapped surges around him. _Rey_.

This is not Snoke beckoning to him, this massive Dark power: He feels himself.

He looks at his hands. With one, he had burned someone alive with lightning. With the other he had healed, with compassion in his heart.

A strange creature he makes, but he knows now. He can walk both paths.

He cannot find Xolon – he has tried, only to be blocked by some barrier, some sort of Force-suppresser. Breathless and on edge before he has even begun, Ben prepares himself: _I am in control. I am in control._

He searches. Far across the galaxy, deep in some cavernous stronghold, he is sure his master waits.

 _Master_ , he calls out tauntingly. The Dark makes him haughty, and he must watch his footing as he treads through this invisible battlefield.

Rey's face, peeled in pain and then that vile sneer, sting his vision.

But there is something else calling to him nearby. Ben looks up – as if there is a sun in that room in space. And he senses it – ahhh, there: the Light.

It has always hovered nearby, an errant sunspot he has to blink away. It often blinded him. Now he opens up to it. Breathes it in.

And he exhales.

ssssss

Beyond, something wretched and spindly moans at the unexpected burn. The Light scalds him. He recoils, searching every which way for the presence that has crept up to him.

Sssssss

Alone in the conference room, Ben nearly laughs at the other creature's pain.

 _My wise, all-powerful lord of all things!_

The shock from the other presence ebbs into irritation. Then:

 _Ahh,_ he ponders. _Liked my little message, did you, boy?_

Ben's back bows like an animal, on edge.

 _You have taken_ , Ben calls out, _always taken from me._ The need to see this other, this parasite of a soul-guardian (once his protector, his friend…and isn't that the saddest thing) – the need to see his greatest betrayer suffer at his hand presents an incendiary and careless possibility as a tinder-match in a dry forest. _My youth. My freedom. And now – you have made the mistake – of taking the most precious gift the universe has graced me._

 _I was once,_ the thin, hollow voice argues. _I raised you from your miserable little legacy._

 _I was six!_ Ben crows. This warped version of a lament – once, Ben was stupid enough to fall for it, to believe this was real compassion. What he had turned from his parents for.

 _My boy. You've strayed so far._

The change in tactics is so sudden that Ben reels. This – this was once how Ben knew his choice had been right. This rare but genuine care. The lilt of parental affection, like a whine that reflected pride.

"Where is she!?" his demand comes out through spittle. He charges upward, a steep cliff that seems easy enough to conquer if you just go at it fast and hard – he can handle it -

 _You'll never find her,_ Snoke says, so simply that Ben's tortured posture begins to buckle. _And even if you do…you won't recognize her. And she won't recognize you._

What does he mean. What has he done…

He shouldn't jump at this bait. _If you've touched her –_

 _Haven't I already? Stupid boy, you'll never get her back._

 _I know who has her_ , Ben decides, prematurely, to let on. _You've let Xolon take her. I'll kill and carve you both -_

The Light simmers and bleats for attention. Ridden with fury, Ben ignores it. Aching, he is desperate to go in for the kill. He's weak; Snoke is as backed into a corner as Ben is, right now. He can feel it. He knows this creature almost as well as Snoke is sure that he knows _him_.

But then – something warm creeps from an obscure corner. And then all too suddenly, Ben's aggression buckles just enough. Swathed in something warm, and kind – or at least, the overdesigned sensation of what kindness should feel – Ben's consciousness takes an unexpected, and costly, turn.

It's like water, always. It's undetected at first, silent as it creeps higher, until you cannot escape it.

 _You were never strong enough to resist_ , Snoke's critical tone echoes.

Ben feels himself go under this new spell before he can try to stop it.

Sssssssss

 _The sunlight is everywhere – molten amber pouring through every crevice yet soft as summer, drenching the soft stone, the glassy water surface and pristine gardens. Ben knows this place simply by how dizzy the light makes his eyes feel. He is on Naboo, in the secluded lake country where the nobility and gentry retreat._

 _The pathway leading to the ivy-laced veranda is familiar. He's been here before as a child, a part of Leia's muted attempt at discovering who her real mother was, another stubborn and elegant monarch._

 _Despite how much Ben despised being uprooted from place to place with no real idea of home, he has missed this place. It was quiet, and just when his connection to the Force had given way to Snoke's futile whispers, this was more than just a safe space. It was a paradise. The only thing daring to remain a shadow is Ben himself, dressed in his usual shades of black and gray._

 _Except...he isn't wearing black at all. It's an odd mixture of casual and well-made tunic and pants, and a dark brown Jedi robe. He hasn't worn anything resembling the Jedi's traditional garments since…since the temple._

" _Hey, kid."_

 _The voice behind him – that_ word –

 _He blinks. Ben's breathing is pocketed with shards of glass, his lungs burning in protest._

This isn't real this isn't real this isn't real –

" _Ben, kiddo, come here," Han Solo (His father, his FATHER) says to him. His father's face is still worn and silvered as the day Ben had damned his soul over again and ran him through with his own lightsaber._

 _Ben can't move, can't for the life of him understand why he has to relive this, his dad's gravelly voice, the man whose nose he shares on his own face._

 _It's too late. The man has come over, his steps soft against the carpet._

 _For an obscene, terrifying moment, Ben is afraid this dream-Han will come over and embrace him. And that the syrupy light will transform into blood-red and a cold durasteel bridge._

 _But he doesn't. All he does is – it still makes Ben freeze under the touch – pat his hand on Ben's shoulder and lead him out to the veranda._

" _You haven't noticed it?" Han's bushy eyebrows shoot up to his gray hairline. "I'd have thought that you'd sense something was going on."_

 _There's no way Ben can reply. His lungs have squirmed so much that they've tangled halfway up his throat. When they step outside, Han actually puts both hands on his shoulders and frames him to face something. "Look."_

 _Ben blinks stupidly. As if this dream couldn't be any stranger._

 _At the other side of the balcony are his mother, looking less like an army brat and more like a proper, retired woman of leisure. Luke is behind her, coaching her as her arms are held out, pointed to the lake. She's levitating something._

 _On the other side of them is Rey. Rey is…_

Ohh, my darling.

 _Without knowing it, Ben's tension leaves him. She's happy and at home, in a way that she should have been all her life. She's wearing more of the Jedi trappings, including the beige tunic and pants in a similar fashion to the gauze-like wrap crossed over her torso, the day he first met her. Fought her._

 _In the glorious daylight, she's smiling, which makes Ben smile. Rather stupidly, too._

" _All these years, Rey finally had your mother try it out. Ain't she somethin'?"_

 _Ben looks back at his mother. It's true – Leia hardly ever used the Force. Any connection to her birth father is a curse._

 _The vision has changed, far too quickly. The people fade away like the brilliant afternoon: Rey, Uncle Luke, his mom…_

 _And his father. The smell of him, the same engine grease staining his fingers and clothes. His carefree smile. His lively, gleaming eyes._

" _Dad – "_

 _Gone, like tendrils before Ben can try to hold him back. To try and say…anything._

 _The sunset is brilliant, casting a golden-orange glow over every surface, so thick in its color it's almost a shadow. He's forgotten how intense the smell of the flowers is. When the perfume assaults him, it reminds him of more than just the way he thought he was allergic to them. He thinks immediately of –_

" _Rey," he breathes out. Because he is robbed of the ability to do so. It's as if the brilliant sunset and the view of the hills and the water try their best to compete with her, the absolute vision of her._

 _She's wearing the most exquisite thing he could ever imagine her in. Not that she looks any less lovely any other day, but – the dress hugs the curves of her hips and cascades down her legs. He's never seen her in anything other than pants. And her back…ohh, her back. The curve of her spine casts her skin in dual shades, a canvas of dark and light._

 _Her hair is half-up, half-down, flowing around her shoulders. He longs to touch it. As his feet unconsciously bring him closer, he spots her Padawan braid tucked behind her ear. It's a detail he couldn't have conjured up on his own._

 _She gives him the exact same low-dosage scowl he's associated with her for a year. "Don't look so shocked, alright? Your mum let me try it on."_

 _Realization makes his throat bob. "You…" Of course, if Ben's mind conjures unrecognized things, it would be this. He knows how close she is to his mother, to his entire family._

 _The suggestion makes his heart ache. He misses the sight of her, marvels at just how beautiful she's always been, underneath her wildness and stubborn-set jaw._

 _He becomes worried, instantly, that just as the vision of his father (and the warm, unbroken feelings that surrounded him) disappeared, he will be taken away from her, too, and be shrouded in the darkness in which she is not there with him._

" _You're beautiful," he says. Because she always has been. He may never – he may never say it to her again._

 _She balks. Her mouth parts just a bit._

 _Her silence prods him to speak. "Though I don't think there's a place to hide a lightsaber."_

 _She rolls her eyes at the poor joke. "Master Luke and your mother told me this is…where your grandparents…you know."_

" _Where they met?" he supplies._

" _No. That was Tatooine." Ben watches as Rey looks away from him. "Where they - you know. Kissed."_

 _She's so shy. So different in discussing a kiss than the Other Rey. This Dream Rey – he wonders how many years in this dream she's been part of the Jedi life. How…chaste she could be._

" _I can't imagine anywhere better." He supposes he should look away at the lake, the birds, the view. But he doesn't have to. He imagines how his grandparents, two very powerful people, stood together like this, on the brink of something terribly unknown._

" _Ben."_

 _The way this Dream Rey even says his own name is different. Different, as in, not having tried to get used to a name besides the one he foolishly gave himself. From Kylo to Ben._

" _Why did you invite me here?" she asks._

 _Ben doubts he will disturb anything if he gets the wrong information. It's his dream, not an alternate reality._

 _He drinks her in more intensely than before. She's so sweet-looking. She's not completely different, though. Something – the way her eyes are so sharp, the way her frame may be slim, graceful, but still guarded – suggests Jakku still forged her into the same wary person._

 _For once he feels more collected. He leans forward, just by an angle, not realizing he's blocking the sun from her. "Why are you wearing that dress?"_

 _And that is what changes her. Fear of getting caught makes her blanch just enough in the colorful sky. Her pupils dilate, and there's a puff of breath that brushes his collarbone._

 _He wants so badly to kiss her. Will she let him?_

 _He can do it; he's done this with her twice already. He thinks before his lips meet hers that it won't feel real, but he's so, so wrong. The moisture behind her lips is slick and warm. She's the one who holds back, an unexpected turn, since she seems to be the one who shelters herself within her Jedi training. This is so different. It's obviously not real because, not only does he doubt Rey would ever wear something even as simple but too shiny and expensive-looking as this backless dress, but his heart isn't threatening to explode out of his chest. His face isn't wild with heat and sweat like the last time he stood so close to her. He doesn't feel like he could choke on the air, fearing kissing her would make him pass out._

 _When he does lean in, it's a comfortable kiss, one that wouldn't feel like the first one between them. Like they've done it many times before and this is just…meant to be._

sssssssss

It's too late by the time Ben knows his error, and wrenches himself away. His body is then tossed into some furnace – his sins are thrown at him, again, and he is left, screaming and thrashing, until he backs himself against the wall, where he has to bash his head to get these visions _out!_

The sun, oh Maker, the sunlight – he still feels it over his skin. The fresh air and the water…Rey's puff of breath on his chin – it all felt so real -

" _Get out! GET OUT! GET OUT!"_

sssssssss

Hours – it must be a day – later,Snoke has done his damage, disappearing into the ether like a cloud. Laughing.

How could he have been so stupid. So wanton. That vision…it was as only Ben could have imagined it. And he just sank into it, like a careless slip on the floor. And had stayed in that spot like a drooling lunatic, unwilling to wake up.

There had been no point in moving from where he had screamed his helplessness raw. He would be wasting his time to engage Snoke again. _Bastard….monster_ , Ben thinks quietly, pitifully, all efforts of ire exhausted.

Instead he casts an empty stare at the faraway stars. There had been a sense of escape, on the _Falcon_ , among the vagrants they had collected. Away from his mother and Finn – symbols of his mistakes. Most of all, he was with her – only her. Rey, the incredible creature, had forgiven him – or accepted him. Or maybe forgiveness was never between them in the first place. It didn't matter because he had her by his side. And his soul had seen sunlight again.

Hadn't he worked so tirelessly, on the sea-coast refuge planet, to wrap himself in mental shield protections? Knowing that a powerful Darksider could make someone brain-dead, light-years away, just through thought? His discipline, once his greatest tool, has floundered.

Tears mean to soothe his burning face. He has failed, so miserably. He had thought he was lonely before – once he had mocked Rey for it, but deep inside it was equally true for him: alone among the Jedi, his own family, and the ranks of the Darksiders. This one spare drop of belonging – knowing what it felt like to have her beating heart against his, to even feel her Light under his hand – there is no peace, no refuge, no forgiveness in this empty room looking out into the black.

The door hisses open. Ben does not turn. He imagines he could disappear into the air.

"Chewie's gonna be all right." Finn casts a cautious eye around the room Ben has holed himself in for furniture, tech gear, any heavy objects that could be hurtled at his head. "…Didn't know you could heal."

Yes. The effort from doing so, letting the Light in, makes him flex his fingers. The other thing (he pinches his mouth shut to keep from cursing like a madman) was unlike anything he had experienced. It was a new, fiercer form of punishment throughout his body. His body sang from it, the Force Lightning channeling all his helplessness into that beast of a nightmare, with Rey's face and Snoke's cruel voice.

And then, not even an hour, he Force-heals his uncle. Where is his soul now? What manner of Force-wielder is he?

His body stings from the Force-healing, the pure strength leeching from him as he searched in the Force through Chewbacca's worn, tired frame. Weaving together patched scars and weary bones left Ben numb, more so than the emptiness he ought to feel.

Finn leaves. Finally – _finally_ – Ben's face crumples, casting glassy eyes out to the black, endless and impossible.

 _Did I lose you? After you've worked so hard to find me? After I let you in?_

This love he feels, he had been sure was caustic: the love for a son that would disintegrate an Empire; the love for a wife that would reduce a man to a beggar, crawling back time and again for forgiveness. He had scorned at its effect on the weak, swearing he would never let it tamper with him.

And now. Ohh, and _now!_ \- when all he can think about is her. How he wishes he could tear out his heart and seek the answers to this agony.

 _Search for me_! He rasps, clawing the ground beneath him. _Search for me like you always have – always intersecting my path!_

He draws up her pretty face, her brilliant eyes. He fears he has forgotten the spare details that made her _her_ , even though he had seen the acute manifestation of his once-enemy, his fate-sharer.

"WHERE ARE YOU!"

Ssssss

Another day has passed. In that time since the failed siege of the Rodian ship, Ben Solo has lapsed into some deep meditative state. Finn checked up on him a half day after and found him cross-legged, eerily similar to how he often found Rey in her Jedi meditations. There had been an _energy_ in the room, bitter as ozone. He is now slumped against the wall, cheeks sallow and spotted with hair stubble.

Poe Dameron regards his own unannounced visit with the desire to throttle this man. Twenty-five of his own men are dead, including Kelys. Just now, the spy had succumbed to her blaster wounds. Thick with sorrow over losing her, someone who believed they were actually so close to the end of this war, Poe doesn't know where else to go, how else to channel his loss.

There are these little ultrasonic transmitters that, when pressed, release almost invisible sounds that go straight to the nerves of most biped races. It's a type of silent alarm clock for undercover bases or black ops to avoid making actual, detectable sound. While they've been proven very effective, they're a total bitch to wake up to – the pinging in your ears can last for hours.

Poe Dameron mercilessly uses one now on Ben Solo, slumped against the wall."Wake up, Lord of Darkness!"

Most men jolt into action as if they have been shocked by a live wire. Though Poe should have realized; apparently Ben Solo _is_ a live wire, according to Finn's firm speculation.

Barely blinking awake, Ben is so weak that his arms shake as he gathers himself into a sitting position.

"So? Have you learned anything?" Poe demands.

Ben hopes he does not look like he has wept. "When was the last time you were here?"

Poe rolls his eyes, straightening. "You look like absolute shit." He goes to the door, where a guard detail has been posted. "Get me one of those breakfast plates, will you? And some water."

Ben would have blushed in embarrassment. He hates being caught in such a humble state, especially by someone who's so kriff-damned haughty.

"Nothing?" Poe's hands on his hips, looking down at Ben like he is a disappointment.

Ben's expression darkens. "She's alive." Only because he refuses to accept any alternative.

"Did Snoke tell you that?"

Those ugly promises threaten to turn Ben's lungs to fragile glass. He said he wouldn't recognize Rey. He knows what this means. When he was still Snoke's apprentice…why, it had been his idea in the first place, hadn't it – turning Rey into one of their ranks. She had been a gift dangling in front of Kylo Ren to present to his master, a symbol of his command of the Force. A fitting punishment, for both her and him.

A tired shake racks through him. He's not exactly in a sharing mood, so he simply nods.

"You can't sense her," Poe disagrees, almost arguing with himself. "You said you've always been able to…find her, or whatever."

Ben cringes. Force, he wishes he could take that back. What personal information.

 _Be nice_. It's as if she's here, damn her – forcing him – no, eliciting him into good behavior like a chain around his neck is at her hand. Will it always be like this?

A thousand fires burn in his tongue as he tries not to lash out. "As I said," he explains. _There is no emotion_ … "Rey's…powerful. She's stronger than me. Smarter. She must…"

Weakness and despair cause him to run his hands through is hair, then hold his forehead up, elbows at his knees. It's a tick he's done since childhood. Han Solo had done the same thing during their…talks.

"She must know what she's doing."

Poe stares at a spot on the floor, seconds away from digging at it with his shoe. "Look. What are you planning on doing if she…if you can't find her?"

When Ben raises his head, pale and sweating, he looks at Poe as if he's mad.

Poe fixes him with a stare, pleading for sensibility. "We're fighting a war here."

For a moment Ben thinks he misheard such a treasonous, utterly careless suggestion. Dameron is a grain of _sand_ amidst the wisdom of the Force, the actions and ongoing current of the galaxy. His concentration on one facet of it, victory, makes Ben almost laugh.

"And I suspect you want to tie me to a chair, drugged to my eyeballs with Force-inhibiter serum and spilling all kinds of First Order secrets? Forget your friend who's won dozens of victories for you – now that she's spent, as long as _I'm_ locked in a box, I'm useful?" he challenges Poe.

Poe steps back, shaking his head. "No, no, I'm not going into that argument now."

"Why not? It's all that makes sense to you."

"I should be out there at the next battle, not here, babysitting you - !"

"How can you not care that she's gone, you talk like she's already – "

"She's not – you don't get to talk about her like she's _yours_ – "

"You self-obsessed…!" Ben huffs darkly. "You don't even know her!"

" _You're_ the one who's obsessed with her!" Poe points out. "Seriously, you really think sticking at her hip, this ally routine, is going to save you?"

"I don't need saving!" Ben shouts on instinct.

"Then WHY IS IT EVERYONE WANTS TO?!"

The pilot's never howled this loudly. He's literally screamed. Ben cocks his head, regarding the man who has tried to put everything within logic into boxes: good and bad, innocent and guilty: just like him, once. Poe's aura is radiating from the injustice

tearing at the seams, a loth-cat roaring from a cage wanting to rip Ben in two.

But there's something else that becomes horribly, delightfully obvious. This moral douchebag is jealous: jealous of his unadulterated connection with Rey, jealous of semi-civility with Finn…jealous of how his mother has secretly stowed her love for, and faith in, her lost, murderous son. Jealous of how she must have proclaimed Ben's change of allegiance, and certainly how she must have bullied her council members into accepting it as truth.

For what might be the first time – more so than when he was strapped down, screaming against Ben's own mind probe a year ago, Ben believes he _sees_ Poe, understanding his pain. That is one thing the Dark Side will always get right, that you never really know someone until they are in pain.

The cynical brat within Ben makes him cast his gaze upward and laugh. Poor Poe Dameron. He could rejoice at the Resistance poster boy's quivering fury. But that would further complicate things. Ben is exhausted to the bone. He's sure that he will collapse into sleep again – better to stay alert and prevent being manhandled into a medbay and sedated with Force-inhibitor drugs of some kind. Force knows the Resistance must have a supply in their back pocket somehow.

And as much as he….loathes to admit this (his fingers and the skin of his eyes remember the dance of pain and images he drew from Dameron's mind)…he needs Dameron. He's reminded just in time; the pilot defended him days ago, in front of all those people, Resistance and First Order alike. He's taken aback now that it still really happened.

Great.

Never had getting this one-sided man to understand himself been so important. He tries anyway. Perhaps because the way Poe teeters the brink of his own knowledge, his own set of truths held aloft, about to shatter, makes Ben sympathize.

"General Organa - your precious leader, my mother – you love her. You worship her in the way I should as her own son. Whatever she has been to you….Snoke, my master, had been for me." And it's true. The reminder of Snoke's voice crooning in sympathy, once so genuine and understanding, feel like scar tissue with phantom pulls from hooks. He thought he was once cared for, and made strong, by him. He believed every word…

"All I've known…all I've fed on since childhood, has been wrong. Everything I've thought made me stronger has been rendered worthless."

It seems to be an effort for Poe to recover his confidence. "That doesn't excuse all those Jedi people you killed. All those civilians you ordered executed."

Ben opens his mouth, then bites it back. The Jakku village… Instead, he retorts. "And you blasted the core on Starkiller. You've killed eight hundred thousand more people than I have."

"Those people are on the wrong side," Poe closes in vehemently. "They've allowed planets to burn."

"Oh, and the Jedi are saints educated from the heavens, are they? Innocent and free of blood on their hands, like you or me?"

This is part of an argument he's made with Rey months ago, when they were still enemies. Revisiting it is a friendly, familiar routine. As if he and the man he once tortured will ever be friends.

As he expected, Poe's puffed-out chest deflates. He can talk all about preparing for the next battle plan, but he's as tired as Ben is.

Seeing this early sign of defeat makes Ben's own chest swell with feeling. "I will find her. I know it."

The determined promise sounds so childish that he almost looks away when Poe dismissively runs his hand in his hair. They have nothing better to day to each other right now. Until:

"General Organa told me about your training for Rey to kill Snoke. Why can't _you_ do it?"

Ben goes absolutely still. He had never, _ever_ imposed the idea that joining forces with Rey, teaching her the secrets of the Dark Side, was all so that he would avoid the true responsibility of spilling Snoke's entrails. The man known as Kylo Ren was – is (he's always a part of Ben, he fears) – cruel, reckless, vicious, unfair, but not a coward. He's never refused a single task, never opted for another to complete it for him.

He's killed his own father. There is no mission, no damnation that he can possibly shy from.

All this time, he had imagined looming in victory with the killing blow. Him, glaring prayers of true, final deliverance as his one-time, phantom guardian faded into nothing. In shades of his daydreams, Rey was there, too, slashing and parrying madly, more spirit than human.

But he doesn't think he's ever taught Rey to kill Snoke on her own. Though their path had wavered, he never anticipated that Rey's ultimate test would be to face the creature that had twisted and unmade him. Still sober at how Snoke left Rey into an empty shell, all those weeks ago –

And now, Force only knows what fate has befallen her. What his ignorance has cost her.

Thirty-one years old and he can't even protect the woman he truly loves; the one person who unforgivably means more to him than an entire lifetime of legacies. If there is one way out of this miserable, pathetic little existence he calls his life, it must be this.

 _Give me strength, my darling, my star; I have no more left._

Taking a clean breath, hoping that cold, filtered oxygen can strengthen him once more, he turns to Poe. Clarity rings in his reply. "I think killing him myself was my plan all along."


	44. Chapter 44

The Call to the Light

Chapter 44

Author's note: Rey in pure survival mode.

ssssssssss

"Come on!" Rey threatens the electro-steel chain and brace around her wrist. She's tried lubricating the skin of her hand with her own blood, and if that isn't to be rewarded…

Her leg is wailing in pain, throbbing like blaster shots. She's managed to tear up a thin bedsheet into strips with the kitchen knife, which now soak up the gaping wound.

She considers the last of her options. _I'll just have to break my wrist, somehow_ , Rey decides; if she doesn't pass out soon.

The ship stutters, quivering and lurching now. Not good. Of course, upon said release – if that happens in the next two minutes – what is she supposed to do first, rescue Jirah or get to the cockpit and land this damn thing?!

There is a whimper nearby. Rey angles her head over to where she had last seen Siele.

"Siele?"

The Sallustran's ink-black eyes gleam in terror. _"What's happening?"_

The girl's bubbling sobs are enough to distract Rey's near-peril. " _It's okay_ ," she responds in Huttese. " _I can get to the cockpit. I just have to get out of here!_ "

She must look a right, wild mess. Her entire leg is brown-red with her blood and she's struggling out of her bounds like an animal escaping from slaughter.

Siele clings to the corner of the wall, afraid even now to expose herself to the Jedi.

" _Siele, I won't hurt you_ ," she says urgently. Out in the hallway, the sirens go off. " _Can you help me? It's all right."_

Miraculously (Rey thinks she counts to twenty), Siele sidles over, choking on hesitation.

" _Don't be scared. You can do this. Can you open this chain?"_

Siele's eyes look around. Rey's fear that Xolon, or even Snoke is speaking to her, spikes incessantly.

" _Siele, I have to land this ship and get to Jirah. Please_."

" _I can't_."

Oh, this is the poor old Cerean all over again.

Then the girl's broken tone suddenly leads to tight distrust. " _Why should I trust you?"_

 _Thunk_! The room begins to tilt in a growing angle. The gravity fluctuator must be about to go. Or –and Rey's stomach clutches at this – they've entered atmo somewhere.

Gritting her teeth, fighting off nausea, Rey glares at the defensive girl. " _Because I will never hurt you_."

Briefly satisfied, Siele squints at the chain and focuses. Rey counts the precious seconds.

 _Snikt_! The metal slinks and gives way. Rey blinks at the damage. The brace is still around her wrist, intact, but at least one of the links from the chain broke.

" _Nice job_ ," she breathes.

Gripping one of the pipelines, Rey hoists herself up and favors her good (well, better) leg. She waves off Siele's awkward offer to help her. " _I – I've got to land the ship. The engines are gone_."

" _He won't let you_ ," Siele whimpers again.

" _I don't care_ ," Rey retorts, stuffing the knife in a belt-loop. " _He's hurt enough people! I'll stop him somehow_."

" _You can't – the Force –_ "

" _You want to help, then?"_ Rey snaps. " _There's a kid half your age who's helping me._ "

She doesn't wait to see what the girl does. Blinking heavily, Rey limps forward. She has to grope the hallways for something to hang onto, in case the ship's fluctuators burn out.

Not even halfway down the hall and she has to stop, take a few deep breaths, try to even out the pain, and try again. " _Joah, I'm coming_ ," she whispers to herself. " _Where are you?"_

The boy's apprehension douses her like cold water. _I can't move, he'll find me._

The little wail in his voice echoes. _Children,_ Rey thinks to herself. _Just babies, the lot of 'em._

The kitchen knife feels heavier with purpose. " _Don't worry, I'll get him. Can you hide? Can you move places just by thinking it? It's okay._ "

A moment that feels too long: _Yes._

" _Good – that's good_ ," Rey smiles. If Luke were here, he'd go bonkers over this Force ability, but right now she's relieved.

She thinks of Lorra and the others held captive in the cells. " _Can you make the locks open? In the room where the others are? I bet you can_ ," she adds mischievously, hoping he'll rise to the playful tone.

 _Why?_

" _Because –_ " she stops to swallow down a yelp, accidentally walking on her bad leg. " _If everyone in the cells can get out, then they can escape. And – they'll make a big mess running around, and distract Xolon and his stupid idiot crew."_

Rey hopes it sounds like a great deal of fun, even as this bucket of bolts is minutes away from hurtling into smithereens.

 _O-okay. Okay._

"Okay!" _I can do this,_ she recites.

The next few minutes of navigating through the halls is agony. This must be how droids feel when their energy cells drain or when they short-circuit. If it's any more possible to feel colder, she does.

The cockpit. Where, where is the cockpit.

"Jirah," Rey calls out faintly. "Jirah!"

She senses nothing.

The catwalk floors rattle with stomping feet, a flurry of shadows from up ahead dart forward – and then blaster fire.

Rey freezes. She cannot rush out and protect them, with just a knife. She needs a blaster, a lightsaber, anything.

"You, bitch!"

Rastro's jagged echo tears through the dark, and even the sirens.

Rey closes her eyes. For possibly the second or third time since Rey discovered the Force, she wishes she knew how to choke someone at the pinch of her fingers.

She takes one despondant look at her ripped thigh and the bloody rag keeping the flesh together. Fused to the damn bone. If only she had begged Siele to try and remove the implant.

If only.

Turning to face Rastro, Rey fingers the knife's handle. She even tries her best to hold her bloody leg straight.

"Rastro," she rasps. "Could this possibly…wait until we find a way to land this ship safely?"

Ever the unpredictable little shit, the unstable Zabrak chuckles. He toys with something small and shiny in his quick fingers. "Well, aren't you the genteel little tart?"

He flicks something in her direction. Rey barely has time to blink before she realizes the shiny object is also a sharp one – planted inside of her bloody thigh.

"Argh! Ahhh!" Rey cries out.

Maybe it's the shit-eating grin – or even the shit-eating laugh – that finally gets to her. Or it could just be a final push of adrenaline before she actually might pass out (if only). When Rey looks back up, she is seething.

A flash of memory: Ben/Kylo Ren, his pale face scarlet with heat as he bludgeons his own wounds to fuel his ferocity as he attacks her, and Luke, and anyone standing in his way.

Rage, endless captivity, her weakness taunting her in the form of her ruined leg, sends fire down her arms. She cannot remind herself of the Light, for all she sees is torment.

"You. Little," she spits, letting it fly from her peeled lips. "Bastard."

"That's it, Jedi slut," he hisses. He prowls over to her, drinking up what he must think is a penultimate encounter: he's ready to kill her. "Show me how angry you get when things don't go your way. Naughty little thing - !"

The trick with Rastro is that he maintains eye contact in such a hypnotizing way. His cold eyes have kept Rey distracted before (though she's been trained to watch his limbs instead).

And he likes to play with his food: he'll go for her wounded leg, invoking her pain so that she becomes blind with it. He'll draw for an attack below her waist, meaning –

Rey draws the knife and waits for an opening.

But Rastro's mind is sharper, reflexes quicker; he's rested, and she's injured. All he has to do is extend one of his wiry arms and pin her wrist before the downward strike. He shoves her into a wall.

Rey buckles. The knife clatters to the floor. Rastro's horned head rears back, then forward – head-butting her with his thicker skull. Flashes dance in Rey's vision and she cannot think further.

The only motion she can try and do is flinch away.

Rastro pulls her head back to whisper in her ear. "You're mine now, sweet bitch. Gonna cut you to pieces and sell you – !"

Something squelches. For a frozen instant, Rey fears he's gutted her, finally. It's strange how she doesn't feel anything – but she's been hit in the head and can't focus on anything.

The third person who crept behind Rastro is an indistinguishable mixture of features – almost like they're changing. _I'm hallucinating._

That squelching sound repeats again. Rey is jumbled forward and out of the way. The third person seems to solidify (Rey can't imagine any other word) – into Lorra, of all people.

Lorra forces herself into Rastro's space and grips the kitchen knife, pushing it into any angle under his ribs that she can. Her sneer is ugly, excited and horrified.

Rastro's too strong for the girl. He gathers himself and shoves her back, forgetting about Rey. He wraps one hand around Lorra's neck while he awkwardly reaches to draw out the knife lodged in his gut.

By now Rey's shaken the brunt of her dizziness. With a cleansing breath, she dislodges the tiny little blade Rastro had stuck into her, and studies Rastro's profile.

Kill zone.

His back faces her, only for a second. It's cowardly – no Jedi would attempt this maneuver.

Rey reminded herself days ago that she has been a scavenger for far longer.

One hand holds his face while the other snakes around, darting for the neck. She summons all the strength in the past fights, the triumphs and the losses, and holds on: tearing Rastro's throat apart.

Lorra yells in horror. Blood sprays her vision until she fights out of Rastro's dying grip. "Oh!"

Rey holds on, keeps the blade in, grateful she can't see how awful this is. She holds onto her own sobs, feeling filthy as this sack of shit, while Lorra gapes continuously.

Rey's eyes are definitely wet when she asks, rather pointlessly, "You okay?"

Lorra's mouth quivers. She's shaking worse than Rey, yet she gets up and stares at Rey like Rastro isn't even dead on the floor between them. "I – I thought – are you – krrrif, Rey!"

The way she throws her arms around Rey is instinctive, and uncaring of however many injuries Rey's collected. But in that instant Rey forgets everything for a swift moment. The body contact stumps her until she feels she is being carried back in time, a faraway moment long ago when she had turned a corner and there stood Finn, Chewbacca and Han Solo, unimaginably there in front of her.

She thinks right now that she loves Lorra like a sister. The tears that should not have fallen now streak Lorra's dark hair.

"Are _you_ okay?" Lorra croaks.

" _Kark_ no," Rey rasps with a pissed-off grin. "This ship is going down…and I need to pilot…so we can escape - !"

She stumbles. Lorra dives to catch her.

"Rey! Don't – "

"'M fine," Rey mumbles. "Ohh, okay. Weapons." She glances down at Rastro's corpse. "We have to check him."

Lorra takes pity on her and gingerly pokes around his belt and clothes by herself. She's able to pry off a blaster and, to Rey's disgust, a lightsaber.

"Bastard shouldn't get to touch these things," she murmurs as she takes it.

Ssssssssssssssss

Xolon Ren is already in the cockpit. Slumped on the floor, just outside the hall, is Jirah. He'll deal with her later.

The damage done to the twin engines is beyond saving for now. Emergency power has been disabled. Xolon strongly suspects foul play.

Jua'nul rushes forward. "The boy is gone. He vanishes before we can find him."

"He uses the Force to teleport. I assume he unlocked the cells of the potentials?"

He knows Jua'nul nods carefully. Quickly, Xolon calculates their crash-landing trajectory, sirens screaming in protest, and concludes that this pathetic escape attempt just tipped into his favor.

"Have the guards round the Force-sensitives using whatever means necessary. Get the others and bring them back here. The four of us will need to join our Force abilities together."

"To land this ship?" Juanul croaks.

"Unless you and your brother wish to die. This ship is a dead stick. Get going."

ssssssssssss

Lorra's got Rey's arm over her shoulder, doing her best to keep them upright as the ship quakes.

"Down – I think down this way," Rey gasps, blinking heavily. "Good boy, Joah."

"Who're you talking to?" Lorra whispers.

"There's a boy, with the Force," Rey mutters back. "He's showing me – "

 _MMOOOOOM!_

The scream is white-hot and blinding inside Rey's head. Joah's emotions are sharp as glass.

"Oh!" Rey whimpers, going slack in Lorra's arms. She experiences inexplicable desperation, her world giving up under her as she sees Jirah's prone form on the floor. And Xolon Ren's iron-cold Dark presence overhead.

"Rey, Rey get up - !" Lorra shakes Rey, her voice tight and small.

Before them stands Jua'nul, back straight in a glaring combative stance. He looks fierce and ready to take them both down.

Rey locks eyes with the young man. She shakes her head. _Don't do this._

" _This was my home_ ," Jua'nul tells her, pinning her with accusation. Rey has come to associate him and his twin with brutish obedience, foolish servitude. Now his glowing eyes evoke condemnation. " _And you have come to destroy us_."

This is the worst time to argue. This ship could be plummeting straight into a planet's surface.

"No," Rey tells him. Truth, and her oncoming failure, her impulse of a plan, make her throat tight with pity, and the need to be understood. "I came to save you. I saw you – all of you."

"We already were," he counters. "We were embraced – "

Their cramped hallway shudders and groans, upending them off their feet.

Lorra wrestles the blaster given to her. Untangling herself from holding Rey, she aims badly at the Iktotchi. "You're a monster!" Lorra spits, vindictiveness burning through after months of captivity. "You're a kriffing monster!"

Just as Rey brings down Lorra's blaster hand, the left wall now becomes their floor. All become disoriented, limbs scrambling weakly for something to hold onto. Another second, the continuous rattling starts again. The sirens now have changed to rapid, incessant screaming.

Between the _Falcon's_ mishaps and Poe's suicidal flying, Rey knows what's about to happen next. She ducks her head into one of the frames and plants herself as close to the surface as she can. Unable to maintain a forward, even trajectory, the ship leans into a nosedive.

Behind Rey, Lorra shrieks. Ahead, she can make out Jua'nul's amber eyes.

"Come on, do something!" Rey shouts, forgetting herself in Basic. " _Do something!"_

Sssssss

Outside the cockpit, Joah's attached himself to his mother. The first minute he saw her, her fraying robes the only thing he recognizes until he's able to find her face, Joah forgets the fear for the dark man who stole them both. Her robes, her hair, her scent take over his senses and he greedily inhales her presence for the first time since he gave up and hid from even _her_.

And then her lack of response begins to sink in. And the dark man – Xolon ( _I am your father now_ , he once said to the boy) – swoops in.

"No!" Joah hasn't had need to scream in so long, not even in dreams. He does now. " _MOOOOOM!"_

Ssssssss

Inside her shared room – the one she never left – Siele buries deep inside somewhere safe, huddled so tightly she can't breathe. Sparks fly and land on her skin, but she's been burnt before. She can't feel them. Nor can she feel the clutter in the room as it crashes and tosses about; they bounce off her through the Force.

 _I don't want to die_ , This is the mantra that stays the thirteen-year-old girl's sanity as the world – her only world for the past two years – collapses.

She grips the durasteel wall's bare fuel pipelines. The Force – stalwart as rough iron yet kind as the breath of wind – ripples around the girl –

Ssssssss

As it does tens of others. It is fervent in the room, like the breaking of a storm, a collective rush of sighs felt by each soul as they clutch at whatever they can, to not die.

This is a different type of fear. Fear does not take the shape of dangerous, shadowy masters or brutish, whip-like jailors who sneer at their mere presence. This is a fear that is paired with adrenaline, vibrating among them all, a symphony of pleas and echoes, ready to burst through and take flight, right through the cage-like ship.

They whimper in their own languages, pray to their own gods. Death….if they die, it is no misfortune. It is the fear of being free from this pain, this unforgiveable, dreary world.

Sssssssss

Rey's consciousness finally begins to buckle. Her thoughts are a monsoon, swirling in and out between Lorra's groans and the metal shaking underneath her fingers.

She looks forward at Jua'nul, no longer belligerent, eyes just as peeled in terror as hers.

She's argued with Darksiders (one in particular) enough times to know when to drop them.

 _Ben. Oh, Ben. I don't want to die._

"Your brother," she tries to say to him. Instead she thinks it, the words like water spilling through. _Your brother. Save him. Save us._

And then it all goes black.

Sssssssss

Pale shadow and cotton-thick fog allow the shouts and heat to just penetrate through, lazily informing Rey that she is being dragged from the wreckage. It's all light as air, as the water's surface, deceptively calm.

She can't possibly have survived this.

Sssssss

"Rey. Rey! Please, for the love of kriff wake up - !"

She wakes up, blearily. There's smoke and howling fires. And something else, something terribly dark and infernal underneath. For a split second she thinks she's returned to a battlefield, but no. the ground is – well, for the first time in a long time, it's real ground. Dry and dusty, it's chalked her palms and clothes.

Something is very utterly strange. The more she feels the ground under her, the more _it_ , whatever it is, lulls underneath. It's such a real, binding thing that Rey thinks too quickly that she is free – that she has the Force again.

She looks up at Lorra, whose hair curtains her face. Then Rey creaks her neck forward. Her injuries, they're not even really there.

"Your leg healed. Can you move? Come _on_!"

Rey jerks into action, albeit awkwardly. Just as she gains feeling in her back – her very, very sore back – and legs, she begins to realize the depth of Lorra's words.

"Who - ?"

"Come on!" Lorra isn't having this shit at all as she hauls her stupefied friend from the ground. "We have to go!"

Go where? "Wait!"

"They're dead, Rey, we have to hide, please!"

Rey has no care for her surroundings or her new planet, other than that the ship – a massive hunk of a barge unlike anything she's seen before – now lies gutted on its side, having carved through the earth in its descent. This fact alone is too bad; it's unsalvageable, certainly by her standards, at first glance.

In three steps she hobbles again. She may walk better than before, but there's something not right with her leg. Pawing it to quickly surmise its healing process, Rey asks, "Why do we have to - ?"

 _Run_.

Rey nearly bends from the unfamiliar presence. Her mind has been pried open so many times that it feels as raw and swelling as her former leg wound. This time, it's from the youth she had faced before she lost consciousness. Jua'nul must still be alive.

Barely, though. His Force-presence stutters weakly. _Run, now. Now!_

 _My leg!_ She interjects urgently. _There was an implant_ –

Instinctively she tests it, casting her arm to levitate anything out of the way. Nothing happens.

 _Couldn't_ , Jua'nul tells her. _No time –_

He's cut off, leaving Rey feeling strangely weighed down. If she does not have the Force, then how does she feel this outward _pressure_ that builds like anxiety and sickness all in one? Where is it coming from? Is it another Force-signature?

"Where's Joah!"

"Who?" Lorra's fingers grip Rey's wrist.

"The kid!"

Just as Rey considers stumbling around for the cockpit, she detects movement. She registers far too later that there are no other survivors in sight, trying to run for escape.

Horror claws into her eyes. Siele, and the Zabrak woman. The Huttese teenager. Where were they?

No. This isn't – she had been so sure. This wasn't supposed to happen this way. Wasn't she supposed to have helped them escape? Were they still inside?

Groaning metal signals Rey to someone's approach. As he climbs out of the hull, the horned silhouette of Jua'nul is bent over with another figure in his arms, bundled in a thrown-back veil.

"Jirah," Rey breathes, then at the smaller, bumbling form. "Joah!"

As they get closer, Rey spots Jua'nul's leg is dragging. Blood is slathered down his pants.

" _Let me help!"_ she admonishes, reaching to assist with an unconscious Jirah.

" _No_ ," Jua'nul moans, attempting urgency. He shoves Joah in Lorra's direction. " _You run. Take them_."

There is a sudden and extreme tightness in the air as Rey tries to object. Neither she nor anyone else can move an inch: a Force-hold.

Rey immediately guesses Xolon is still alive, stuck somewhere in the wreckage. Dread has sunk into her chest. But in another moment it's gone. She and the weight of poor Jirah are cast loose, free of the Force-hold. Blinking, Rey backs away, watching in awe and fear as the young Iktotchi turns to the ship, suddenly haggard but leveling the stare of a wounded predator.

 _He's going to die._ He'll die trying to kill Xolon. Rey is absolutely sure. She hopes she hasn't lost the lightsaber as Lorra dragged her out the wreckage.

"Rey! Mama!"

Terrified in the instinct to flee, Lorra has clung to Joah, who looks ready to spring closer to harm where his mother is.

Arms throb from such disuse that Rey struggles to adjust her human cargo. At an impasse, Rey considers her options. The Force, the Force. Oh, hells, why can't it tell her in her simplified, useless state what to do?! Hasn't she received enough divine intervention in visions before?

Jua'nul's awful groan is enough. He must be fighting off Xolon's intent to net them all under his capture. "Leave me to him!"

A rattling sighs rips through Rey, angry at everything until her eyes feel hot with tears. None of this has been made right. Alone in the wilderness of an unknown planet, in front of a smoking, wounded ship, Rey is frozen herself with indecision.

 _Come with us! We can escape him!_ she thinks, ignoring the petulance there.

She is forced away from the Iktotchi's invisible battle as Lorra wrenches her away. She clutches a broken arm, and there are fresh bruises and cuts from the crash. "I am not dying here, let's _go_!"

She gives in, immediately exhausted and ready to sink to the ground if only to sleep and wish herself away. They are not safe. They have only traded one danger for another.

She trails behind with Jirah as Jua'nul's last words funnel through, a desperate whisper before he faces his master.

 _You are not safe on this planet. They will hear you, and devour the Light._

 _They?_ Rey can barely think her way through this new connected conversation as she trudges in a half-jog, the semiarid ground giving way to rocky slopes.

It's caught off with a scream. There's no time to look back, or to mourn. There's nothing left to do but run, and hide.


	45. Chapter 45

The Call to the Light

Chapter 45

Ssssssssss

It is impossible to think how far they have run. At this point, said run – Rey, Joah, Lorra, and even Jirah, once she regains consciousness – is a pathetic, dust-kicking trudge, of legs that can do no more than trot a few inches off the ground. While Rey and Lorra have been barefoot throughout their imprisonment, Jirah's got a pair of slippers that do a decent job protecting her from the rough, sharp ground. Joah has these shoes that look more like canvas wrapped around half of his legs.

Their new planet is barren as Jakku, save for brittle flora veining the rocky surface. It's cavernous too, judging by the incline the four trek up. This direction will have to give way to places to hide, and perhaps even a water source. Rey had learned in the survival training Luke and the Resistance had given her.

And food, too. Though the main concern is creating distance, Rey tries to detect if the providing organisms are edible: berries, seeds, bark jerky or sap will do just fine.

It may be impossible to think they've run a great deal, but in the first minute of their escape, they've done very well. Jirah woke fairly soon, and with her and Joah's combined Force-signatures, they were able to weave a cloaking net to avoid detection.

They are not safe here, Jua'nul said. Thinking on how organized Xolon's people were, in capturing her, and however many other Force-sensitives, it's no genius guess that this place may be inhabited with Darksiders. It has to explain the feeling of defeat, and desperation that stains her soul with every haggard breath.

Rey's kept everyone moving with swift, brittle commands to keep going. When Lorra finally begins to weep and buckle, Rey abandons Jirah and clings to the younger girl.

"Lorra, don't," she begs, rasping herself. "You have – you have to keep going."

"I can't…" the sound is barely audible, a thin whine. "I can't breathe."

"Just a little further, understand me? We'll get home, I know it – "

"I can't…!" Defeated, everything in the past few hours catching up to her, Lorra deflates. Suddenly incensed at this unafforded weakness, Rey throws her head back to glare at the violet sky.

 _No. Steady._

"Lorra, I'm going to tell you something." She swore she wouldn't do this to the other girl. Before, on the ship, it would have been cruel – cruel to someone who had clung to false hope of a rescuing family for fifteen years. Haphazardly healed, body practically _eating_ itself away in hunger and exhaustion, Rey throws caution to the wind.

"I came looking for you. I came to try and…" the words save them are lodged in her throat. "To find you. I know people who are looking for you."

Lorra's jade face pales even more. She shakes her head in disbelief.

"Your dad. Niall Breaton. He came to me. He's been looking for you."

The name causes Lorra to break away from Rey's embrace. Strangely, she looks irritated. "No, you're – you're joking."

"I'm not!" Rey snaps, mostly from hunger. "You mother told him, and he's been looking for you this whole time."

Lorra casts her face outward, tears gleaming in the turgid evening sky. "He's…he's…"

Rey blinks. Why does she seem angry at this? Shouldn't she be relieved?

"What, did he – did he _pay_ you? To get captured like that?" She's sneering in a way that reminds Rey so terribly much like the Kylo Ren she knew, spewing rehearsed hatred of his _own_ father. Remarkably, Han Solo and Niall are not very different, either. She is so caught by the similarity of this moment that she takes a step back.

What is it with people who hate their fathers?

"No," Rey replies slowly. She temporarily forgets why she mentioned Niall in the first place, until Lorra glares demanding it.

"I didn't come here by accident. I came here, looking for you. And them." She turns to Jirah, who leans a little too much near Joah for Rey's liking. She touches Lorra's shoulders in reassurance. "I came to bring you home."

Emotion accidentally bleeds through these words. Perhaps it's the desert-like planet that reminds her of her own wish to have been rescued. Not having to do everything, _everything_ by herself. She craves her own family, Finn and Poe and Jess, so much. Ben's troubled face threatens to take form over Lorra's shoulder. She knows him, his passion bordering on ferocity. She knows he would be doing anything right now to find her.

The knowledge brings a small bloom of a smile. And that'll do, for now. For tonight.

In that instant, the gossamer wind of freedom is real as a new horizon, Rey feels the hope break through this darkness….

….And then that darkness finally comes forward.

Joah sees it first: a flesh-colored, horned thing with a jaw wider than its skull. It seems to have peeled itself from the ground, its spinal ridges a form of camouflage.

The boy whimpers and pulls his mother's wrist to flee with renewed speed into the canyons. Rey doesn't see it until Lorra gapes at it in sheer terror. Turning sharply, she seizes as the thing truly shows its size.

Three, maybe four times bigger than herself. The creature seems to purr in contentment: four little snacks right in front of it.

It's when it opens its cavernous jaws in a near-grin, licking its incisors that Rey regrets everything she's just said.

sssssssssss

Now Rey understands. The waves of dread, intense as a fog, is the Dark Side itself. It's in the atmosphere, and as she feels faint measuring the size of this new beast, Luke's many nights of lessons come into play.

" _The thing to understand, the fundamental difference between the Jedi and the Sith, is that the Jedi obey the will of the Force. They_ serve _it through using it." Luke's words are measured carefully while Rey's eyes drift lazily at the fire he's poking. She's left feeling a bit chastised after this morning's failed training round._

" _The Dark Side," Luke continues, "uses the Force as a tool of conquest. By treating the Force as a sign of his or her power, Darksiders have created all kinds of bastardized uses for it."_

" _What kinds of things?" In the cold, Rey shivers even more at the idea that Kylo Ren – whenever her next encounter with him is – could be even more frightening._

 _Luke's blue eyes turn steely. "Things that only the imagination could inspire. It's been said that Darksider ambition helped forge the conception of the first hyperdrive, and even the Star Forge. Both have, of course, proven to cultivate today's civilization, which many can concede as necessary blessings. Or, necessary evils, depending on who you ask. But other more true aspects of corruption are the manipulation of life itself."_

 _Luke eyes rove from the fire to her. He looks haunted. "Like, what, six hundred ways to kill someone?" Rey guesses._

" _Far more worrisome. Think deeper. Sith alchemy. Necromancy. Communicating with the dead. Raising the dead. Trapping spells and weapons into holocrons. Creating fake memories, altering your own until you yourself turn into a completely different person." Luke leans forward, his grizzly face a wild canvas of light and flickering shadow. "Rey, their ambitions and desires are boundless. I've seen creatures molded together as one, resembling terrible shapes that speak the Sith language."_

" _The Sith have a language?"_

" _As a way to communicate with the Sith, their true masters. Not even the most powerful Jedi can use this language against them. It takes a true Darksider to command a Sithspawn."_

Snapping to the present, Rey thinks she actually makes eye contact with this grand, lumpy beast. It claws the ground, ready to charge right at her.

 _Months after that night, months before now, Rey's breathlessly matched against an even stronger, more furious Kylo Ren. Blow after blow rakes her form, battering her down despite all the training she received from Skywalker._

 _Luke's lightsaber, Rey thinks, may very well burn up against Ren's incendiary sword. Her chest claws in pain, a mangled half-burn half-slash._

 _This terribly matched battle has cost Rey so much ground, and what may be worse is that this man – whom, only days ago, she had dreamed of embracing, of kissing – is a demon incarnate, possibly more fearsome than that damned stupid mask of his._

 _She's knocked on her back before she knows it. He's kicked her in the chest (and isn't that an awfully unfair bitch of a move, almost childish on his part, if it didn't knock the wind out of her and inflict twice as much hot agony through her chest)._

 _She looks up, into his sharp teeth and heightened stare. He's ready to descend and eat her alive._

 _He aims his fiery saber at her, making his face a phantom mixture of red and shadow._

" _Asha, Jidai," he utters, the words snakelike that Rey thinks he just might turn into one. "Ka Vayash!"_

 _She shivers. It's not fair – in that moment, thinking she was about to die (although of course she wouldn't; she head-butts him with the Force) – she shouldn't have felt…attracted to him._

 _She does ask Luke later, the scholar, and learns the translation: victory, Jedi. Surrender._

sssssss

Aghast for half a moment, Rey reaches for Rastro's stolen lightsaber. The cool metal is a calm reminder of who she is.

 _I am not afraid. The Force is with me._

… _.Somehow._

She whips out the weapon and sets herself in Soresu form. Nothing fancy against a thirty, forty-foot animal.

But this is a creature to be commanded only by the dark. Well, she's got enough baggage to submit it to her will.

" _Ka Vayash_!" she calls out.

She's floored when the thing talks back in a genderless rasp. " _You are no master here_."

Fake bravado filters through. "I'll be your _slayer_ if you don't back off!"

The beast shakes its head and sniffs the air. " _You…You are powerful. Dangerous_."

Against her better judgment, Rey's stance falters in confusion. This Sithspawn seems to size her up, like it's considering something. Also, how in kriff can it be speaking Basic?

The temporary spell is broken at the flash of a blaster shot. Lorra screams from behind Rey to run.

Not that it's the best idea – that beast will trample her. Before it can recover, Rey decides to charge. The ground shakes under her and Rey swipes the saber. The Sithspawn is a wall of muscle and Rey is thrown back. The saber clatters a few feet away.

The thing has a tail thick as a trunk. At the tip, a sharp, shell-like blade lodges suddenly between Rey's outstretched hand and the saber.

Without thinking Rey hoists herself onto the tail and grips each spinal ridge to keep from falling. The beast thrashes madly to shake her off.

Rey's not strong enough to stay on. She buries her face into the Sithspawn's hide, as if that'll keep her aloft. Stupid, this was stupid!

The creature howls and bucks, and then in another instant it goes almost still, like it's been caught in something.

"Rey!"

Rey looks up, open-mouthed at Jirah. She must be doing this. She looks half-surprised she's commanding so much of the Force at all. Her shaking hands are held out – a typical amateur move for Force-wielders, needing an action of their own to channel their abilities.

Rey clambers off the animal and gropes the saber blindly, still ignited. She wastes no time hacking its legs, wincing at the animal's screeching, dying cries. _This is an evil thing and it could have killed us, killed Joah._

She shakes away the laws of Jakku and instills a sense of peace, as if Luke had done this. And he killed a Rancor, for kriffsake. She drives the saber into the creature's thick skull, watching the blade singe through skull and membrane, bisecting the thing's face and adding a few more arcs into its neck for good measure.

It's an ugly, putrid mess when she's done. Turning wildly around to avoid retching, she deactivates the saber and climbs up the rock to where Jirah stands, swaying. " _Are they all right?"_

Jirah responds by dropping into Rey's arms with a cry.

 _Great, what now?_ Rey thinks churlishly. Feeling Jirah's pulse at her wrist, she frowns at how faint it is.

"Jirah, Jirah." She shakes her. " _What is it? Where are you hurt?"_

The woman's head lolls back. The oncoming stench of the dead Sithspawn reaches Rey's nose. Feeling suddenly vulnerable, Rey hoists the grown woman in her arms again ("Krrrrif!") to where Lorra and Joah hide. They've shuffled into an alcove that gives way to a deep, narrow canyon.

Joah's jade face is as white as a human's. When he sees his mother in Rey's arms, he backs away. It breaks Rey a little.

"What's wrong?" Lorra asks.

"She's fine, scootch over. Okay, now." Bending to lay her down, Rey bunches Jirah's veil into a pillow of sorts. "Jirah? I need to see. Where are you hurt?"

Jirah's eyes are unfocused. She limply reaches for Rey's hand and settles it over her stomach. The folds of her dress give way to her smooth skin.

When Rey pulls the layers back to see, she stills. Angry bruises cover the woman's torso. She knows what they mean – internal bleeding. From the crash, or from Xolon.

Rey's face falls. It's impossible to know how long she can survive.

Lost, she nods to herself dumbly; mostly to appear confident in front of the woman's poor son and Lorra.

"Is it bad?" Lorra needles.

Rey ignores her, trying to think fast. Jirah's been Xolon's servant for possibly longer than Jua'nul. And Jua'nul…Rey only gave a simple set of instructions, and Jua'nul actually healed his own brother. Jirah would surely be able to do the same thing. She must, or she'll die.

The only other person who could is Joah. But that's pushing a line, asking too much. He's six. And his handling of the Force is ruled by his own trauma that he could accidentally kill Jirah. Or Rey and Lorra.

"Jirah," Rey says with forced calm. "I can teach you how to heal. You're bleeding from the inside."

Jirah's Froce-signature goes rampant in her unfocused state. Rey has to grimace her way through as the woman attempts to Force-speak. _There is no hope._

"Yes, there is!" Rey tells her shakily. "There always is. We can fix this."

But Jirah is shaking her head and reaches out for her son. Unable to control her emotions, Jirah's unconquerable maternal instinct makes Rey choke back a sob.

 _My son. My son, come to me…_

Joah rises out of Lorra's lap and approaches his broken mother. His face is carefully guarded, but because he is a child, it is eggshell-thin. Rey can't try to watch this. She shuffles back to let the boy sit by her.

Joah leans over, afraid to touch her. "….Mama?"

Lorra puts a hand over her mouth and looks away. Rey looks down, out of…out of respect, that this is not something she should be allowed to see. She has no family, not like this.

They can barely hear Jirah. " _My boy, my sweet. Do not be scared. You will see Papa soon_."

"Mummy. Mummy….!" The garbled, wet echoes make everything worse. Joah is losing his mother. He is losing her again, though now, unbelievably, the final time. His anguish bleeds into both the adults, as uncontrollable Force-sensitives do. It becomes difficult to breathe.

Jirah reaches out to her child as if he is the sun, caressing his face and wiping his bangs from his forehead. Her voice is so sweet and that it is torture, and Rey wishes she can block her ears. "Shh, darling, my sweet. My strong boy. Do not despair. You will grow. You will live. And be free."

This is worse than the crash. Worse, perhaps, than watching the life leave the Cerean's eyes. Jirah's kindness had almost made her untouchable. And now she, too, is dying. In this cave, suffocating under intense Darksider energy, the faint suggestion of escape or rescue leaves the younger women bare and shaking.

Sssssss

An hour might have passed. Jirah begins to grow quiet, making Joah switch between panic, trying to shake her awake, and moaning cries. Lorra has shuffled further away to sob quietly into her hands. Teetering between denial and shock, Rey remains on the ground, swaying slightly. Both penitent in their silence, undeserving to break the spell of this death.

 _Oh, what have I done?_ Rey bemoans. A flash of Chiroh's distressed face threatens to undo her again. That poor father, if they ever get off this planet, will have lost the woman he loves all over again. She's spiraling into blame: a Jedi for almost a year and she couldn't protect a Force-sensitive, couldn't have the Force to keep this boy's innocence, now probably in tatters.

Joah and Jirah's connection floods the small space so much that Rey and Lorra's heads begin to sting. All at once, Joah's dismay peaks into intense alarm. " _Mamma! Mama, please! Please don't…!"_

 _No_ , Rey thinks. The pain in her chest curls and burns. _I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I tried_.

Ssssssssss

It's definitely nightfall now. The moonlight is too strong for Darksiders to wait until daybreak.

Whatever daze Rey banished herself to, she claws her way out with renewed, hardened vigor. Something sharp and hot burns in her chest. It's so caustic that Rey grips the lightsaber to center her grief.

It's self-hate. It arises like warm venom that she thinks it will blind her. Everything, everything…everything betrays her.

Fuck you. Fuck all of this. Fuck everything.

She must be the stupidest woman in the galaxy. Did she really think she could hop onto a ship and save everyone, like a good little Jedi? How holier-than-thou and mindless.

It's Luke's fault for making her this way; that broken, brittle old man; and Finn's, and Poe's, for making her care. Ever since…ever since Finn grabbed her hand, asking if she was all right, not even three minutes after she clapped eyes on him…no, ever since BB-8! Since that damn wobbly, whining droid, Rey's resolve – the armor and strength she's had to build for fifteen agonizing, empty years! – has etched away, crack by crack, until she has been reduced to this useless thing.

She cannot take it. Groping clumsily to her feet, Rey walks away, anywhere. She finds herself back to the carcass.

Now she can use the lightsaber. She inhales the open air sharply and welcomes the green light. What to cut off first? These spines? Maybe fuck up the face more? Make it unrecognizable? Make it pay for taking Jirah's life, making her waste herself through such an intense display of power –

She wishes she could run back to the wreckage, find Xolon (he must be still alive, he must be) and hack that green-skinned fuck to pieces. She'll punish him, make him pay for every – single – transgression!

Her hands were poised above her, the saber glowing like a greedy star ready to descend into rancid flesh. The image –

Of Ben, her Ben, arms ripped with intent, a mad lust for blood.

This is her right now. Poised above some dead lump, always dead things. Standing above a pile of death she's accumulated. Just like whatever Snoke-through-Xolon showed her, just like the vision she shared by accident with Ben one day on Sher'hatha.

It terrifies her into reality.

The Dark Side. This planet is making her breathe it in. She's forgotten her training. She's been among Darksiders for so long that she's forgotten –

"Rey!"

Rey turns, startled, wide-eyed. Lorra's come down, equally shocked at Rey's sudden transformation: an absolute barbarian descending into insanity.

"I – " shame douses her instantly. She looks down at her gut-spewed clothes. Looking away, bowing her head in contrition, Rey begs to be swallowed up by the ground.

She is losing it. Seconds ago, she just did.

 _It's okay. It's okay, sometimes –_

Without thinking of the saber still ignited in her hand, Rey swings around. Was that her _own_ voice, trying to reassure herself, or Lorra?

But Lorra looks so lost: Rey seemed to be the one with all the answers, the compass of decisions. She struggles to center the situation. "We have to…"

 _Have to._ Have to _what_? Walk farther? Find water? There is no civilization in sight – maybe even no food. Jirah just died. They'll all die.

"I don't – I don't have a plan!" Rey confessed, the whisper slashing through her lips. "I don't know what I'm doing!"

This must be what hyperventilating looks like.

"Okay, okay just – Rey, just put the sword down, before you hurt yourself." _Before you hurt me_ , she must mean instead.

Rey only grips it harder. This snarling defense is all she knows.

Strangely, what makes her concede is Lorra's defenseless expression, arms open as if to calm a panicked animal.

 _What am I doing? What did I just do?_

Think of Luke. Think of good things: Finn's stupid smile and Poe's perfect hair. The smell of sweat-stained leather in the _Falcon_. Jess's hugs and Leia's hands combing Rey's hair. The sea. Luke's grizzly bears and mystical, ever-blue eyes. The shyest and equally the most passionate kiss she thinks she will ever experience in her life – Ben's heavily lidded eyes, lips parted in prayer to brush against hers. The tide and the wind picking up, the storm of their feelings for each other signaling destruction and something more breathtaking.

This ebb and flow of Dark and Light must be what Ben feels, bobbing just barely over the waves. She understands now, just a bit more. She thinks of him cowering and pliant on the floor, his face in her hands.

 _I miss you. I want you so much more, Ben, I understand…_

"I don't know…what's going on."

"It's – it's okay." Snot shines in the moonlight under Lorra's nose. They must both be ugly criers. Still, she sounds a little more assured that Rey's snapped out of – whatever that was. "I seriously need you with me. I cannot take care of that kid by myself."

Rey looks down and watches the lightsaber disengage. The feeling of the blade sinking back to the hilt is reassuring, somehow, as she lets Lorra guide her by the shoulders to the boy and his dead mother.

Sssssssssss

They find him huddled into her chest. Jirah's…body must be cooling already, but so was the night. They leave him upon learning he's still asleep.

Rey huddles herself against the wall, diving into her memories of Luke's breathing lessons.

"Is he Force-sensitive?" Lorra whispers.

She stares as lovingly at Joah's back (no, it's pity. She doesn't deserve to love him). "He's been hiding on that ship this whole time. Xolon never detected him. Even when Joah was sleeping." It's obvious. The fear from a child, unbound in his emotions, can do extraordinary things. Ben had apparently Force-choked a politician at one of Leia's…political party-things. Rey can now attest her entire childhood, her survival, to the Force somehow looking after her, all these years.

Yes, though – in that moment she's sure she loves Joah. She'll take care of him somehow – she'll show him love and how to play and to run in green fields: D'Qar, Takodana and Welcha.

Children like them shouldn't be punished by the galaxy because of the Force. They shouldn't have been tested via their childhood of their strength. She, Joah, Ben, Anakin: when will the Force get it right?

"Is he…still hiding us?" Lorra presses. "Even in his sleep?"

"Probably."

A beat. "Can he do the exact opposite?"

Another beat, this time from Rey. She becomes so still she thinks she can calcify against the stone. She searches for Lorra's face in the shade of moonlight. Then back at Joah's infantile profile.

He's not a way out, not some secret source of magic or a weapon. But…

Kark _fuck_ it all.

Rey flings herself brokenly off the wall and crawls over to the little boy. He's so small. She hates lurking over him, trying to find how to pull him off his own mother's chest. Will it be warm under him?

"Joah. Joah, sweetheart."

Rey may blame it on the blurry night, but as she rouses him, stroking his round, tear-stained face, whispering into his hair, when he opens his eyes she thinks he glares at her: _You killed my mother._

She blinks away guilt and steadies her voice. "Joah. I have an idea. I know how we can get home."

She has to ignore Jirah's still, flea-bitten cloth-covered form: " _Listen: I can't call out for help. But you can. And I know who to ask for help. We can do this together_."

Rey's too-careful voice must spark a reminder that Joah is all alone. He begins to cry, the shape of his mouth melting into a tight frown. He turns desperately away, away from his dead mother and the sky. " _I can't do it. I can't look_."

"I know. I know, sweetheart." And this hurts all over again. The idea she has in mind is raw, still so after a year of making her own family, forgetting the need to be claimed by another. Leia had her do therapy, for kriffsake. "I know, doshka, my little one. Joah, darling. Sweetheart. Let me tell you something. Joah, I was once as small as you, and so scared…" Rey is caught in a current between sobs and sudden calm. "The universe is such a big place, and I was alone and scared. But I had hope. I looked up at the sky. Look at it – it's lovely, see?

"Look at all those stars and nebulas. They're bright to keep us strong. They're up there so that, when we're lost, all we have to do is ask for help, and they'll come. They'll come."

"Who?" Joah's reply is so tender and curious. Rey tilts her head in adoration. Such a kind child.

"Our family." Rey takes a deep breath. The thread that must come from him, his Force aura swelling in strength that she, even with her inhibited abilities, can sense, grows stronger, thicker. "Look to the stars, feel them around you. Breathe in and out. Don't worry about who's looking, just breathe in, and show yourself to the stars."

sssssss

Joah's in her lap now, where they both look up skyward. It's not moonlight, after all – it's a planetary ring slicing the entire sky in a magnificent arc.

She leans in so her chin rests gently on his bird-like shoulder. " _Okay. Now. I'm thinking of someone right now. He's in my head. Can you see it, Joah? Can you sense him, the man in my head?"_

He nods just a little against her chest. The gesture of trust melts into her skin.

" _Tell me what he looks like_ ," she asks him.

" _Tall. Big. Human. Hair like mine. Sad. Angry_."

Her lips pull into a reluctant grin. That's pretty much it, but Rey prods for more.

" _Scar on his face_."

" _Big ears, too?"_

" _Under his hair_."

" _Good boy. You're so smart, sweetheart. Now_ …" she falters. How did Luke do this, with so many younglings before? " _Can you feel him? His inside? Like what you have?"_

She waits. Seconds. After a minute she has to think this is too hard for him (she's teaching him to look for Ben's Force-signature, after all), but suddenly he wriggles. " _He…he's so…he's scary!"_

Rey should have realized: he could have drawn out Snoke or Xolon by mistake. " _Is he sad?"_

" _He sees you. He's so sad_."

Well. That'll have to do it, for a Force-Signature like Ben's. " _He's sad because he misses me. And he'll come find us once he knows we're here."_ She doesn't realize that she's started stroking his hair, kissing his temple like this boy has been her own all along. A mixture of vulnerable and petulant thoughts rise up, thinking how whoever her own mother and father were, how they felt holding her against their breast and still tossed her into the care of Unkar Plutt _._

And then Chiroh's face, blanched with sleepless sorrow, dashes her insecurities and she focuses again _. "We found your papa together and we're gonna bring you back to him. Now…I know, I know, almost there. Almost. There's a … now, I can't do it because I'm…I'm stuck. But I know there's a, a string. Everyone like you and me and your mum have it. You know what I'm talking about? You're gonna pull on that string, and show where we are. It's gonna be a lot, but I know you can do it, because he won't know you, and he'll be scared, too, but you just tell him we're okay, and tell him to listen. Make him listen like you made me listen_.

" _You brave boy. You strong little man_."

sssssss

They sit together like that for almost an hour. At some point, Rey thinks of having Lorra join in the connection – instead of just establishing a connection to Ben, why not Niall, too. The two women huddle in providing warmth and memory - images of Niall's less-than-handsome features and dancing blue eyes. Rey worries that all of this is too much pressure for Joah. His head is going to ache out of his skull if they don't give him time to rest. But he clings to Rey and moans his resilience as Rey squeezes her reassurance.

The last person they feel safe drawing to is Leia. It pains Rey that Luke is no longer there. She had been so safe with him, and all of his answers (those he shared and didn't share). It must be that transferring all the feelings of safety and compassion that make Joah reach for it, another escape from this pained reality. She hopes this works.

But soon, they have to keep moving. It takes a few minutes to get up because the stone is not forgivable to wake up from.

She looks down at Jirah's body. She still looks asleep. She will not rise. Rey has seen enough bodies to know this. At the moment, the notice is only dull, not enough to grieve.

 _Get them out. Get them to permanent safety. Have to. Just another mission._

Lorra shuffles forward. She had slept next to Rey, and for this small forgiveness, Rey must bite her tongue to keep from crying again.

Tucking back her black hair, Lorra bends over the little boy's form. "I'll carry him."

His warm weight has been seared into Rey's body. She misses the pressure already. Looking back at Lorra's dirty feet – she notices how the other girl favors one foot, maybe she stepped on a sharp rock – she eyes Jirah's slippers.

It's wrong. It doesn't matter that Rey the scavenger would not have thought twice. It's how she got her first pair of boots. But Rey the Jedi…

Rey the Jedi needs to care for her two charges. Without thinking a second time, Rey crawls over, says a quick prayer of permission, and lets her palms linger on Jirah's ankles, tilting the heel end of each slipper off.

"Put these on." She waits for Lorra to put away her sorrowful glare and reaches for Jirah's hand. It's cold. She thinks she can still sense the calluses and small cooking burns in the woman's own fingers. It's a sick desire for forgiveness, pressing this dead hand against Rey's cheek.

 _Forgive me. I'll take care of him. I promise._


	46. Chapter 46

The Call to the Light

Chapter 46

By TheOneAndOnlySlayer

ssssssss

Chewbacca lies on a too-small cot with an extra surgical tool table to support his legs. Though the great old Wookie is sedated and slathered in bacta, what he really needs is a bacta _tank_. Those burns cover his entire arm and part of his side. But this is the Resistance, and everything in this oversized tomb is desperately under-budget, second-rate and miraculously, inappropriately functioning.

Ben is too heavy-hearted to scowl at the conditions. _Scars_ , he thinks as he lingers by the curtain of the medbay, always a shadow undeserving of acceptance. _Scars show how I sever each bond._

He looks upon his old, once-beloved uncle. _I almost killed you._

 _No_ , his other voice reminds him, armed with visceral truth. _You killed him when you murdered your father. His brother._

He needs to leave. With Dameron in command and lurking over Ben's every move, the Knight cannot do what needs to be done. He has Rey's lightsaber safely tucked at his belt, and seldom else. He'll take the _Falcon_ or some other unmarked ship out of here and cover the familiar bases no non-Force user would dare orbit – Moraband, namely. He knows Xolon's most covered bases. This junkyard Star Destroyer will not help.

He just needs to…say goodbye.

"Uncle." This formal tone is not what he's used to, not with Chewie. That name, though – it's intimate as a hug, and more. He can never – he would never have the right to call Chewbacca by that name anymore.

When he was five, Han and Leia explained to him (back when his parents weren't always so separated) that if anything ever happened to them, Uncle Luke would be his caretaker. And if Uncle Luke, if anything happened to him –

"Your ol' Uncle Furball would be your guardian," Han told him with a soft smile. He always loved touching Ben's hair, just starting to get floppy.

"But –" Ben felt his face turn red, upset without knowing why, and feeling like something outside of him was making it so. "Why would – " _why would you not be able to take care of me?_

Leia's big brown eyes peered into his, always knowing what he wanted to say. "Because, darling, you would never be alone. No matter what happens to us."

Years after that moment, Poe Dameron's mother died when he and Ben were adolescents. By now, Ben had kept whatever friendship had failed to forge to a cool, civil indifference. Still, the idea of losing a parent – he couldn't look at his own mother the entire funeral service, too afraid of tears that would puncture into his weakness for all to see.

Poe didn't seem to notice Ben's distress, as his own face shone with tear-tracks.

It was Chewie who found him outside the service. Ben had been shocked at the tears that slid down his cheeks, angry upon seeing his father's comrade walk right toward him and envelop him into a hug.

 _Ben, beloved boy_ , he crooned, etching his tenderness into Ben's crown of hair as he allowed himself to cry, quietly but at least unseen in Chewie's fur.

The memory is so unyielding that Ben feels himself come closer to the sleeping giant.

And then…and _then_. After fifteen years, fifteen vacant, pain-stricken years of never seeing each other, his father couldn't resist touching Ben's face. That cool, callused touch on his cheek was the last mark, branding his sacrifice into his traitor son's heart. Ben should have given in; he wanted to so badly. He was so tired with this internal fight. He wanted to come home. And guilt, and misled ambition let him down.

Chewbacca's rage and grief rained from above that day, roaring and channeling his pain at the sight of his bond-brother, dead by the son. Rigid anger and the need to punish has been the only currency aimed at Ben since then, more so since he boarded the freighter with Rey in his arms, leaving Snoke – and Uncle Luke – behind.

With the shaky truce with Rey keeping him alive, Ben had stayed away from Chewbacca. He could live with the shakier reunion with his mother – he could be a dick as much as he wanted, Ben was his mother's son. Ben was beginning to understand the depth and grace of that bond, which not even Snoke could get through.

Chewbacca represented a line he could not ever come back from.

He thought he wouldn't miss Chewie. Chewie had sometimes acted as petulant as young Ben did whenever his parents fought, so unusually gentle of a beast he was. Gentle and fierce.

Head bent, Ben wonders despondently of the last time he was allowed to _think_ about Chewie, in his first few years in the First Order. There had been…no hatred spared for him. Not like his parents…

… And Luke…he can't think about that now. One transgression at a time.

"I have to go, Uncle," he rasps. "Forgive me."

But the second his fingertips trace the burned hair, coarse and wiry, Ben sinks to his knees.

"Forgive me….forgive me, please." Sadness, unlike anything he had expected to bloom from his chest, undoes him. It had taken so much strength and self-preservation just to leave the bare conference room he had claimed as his sanctuary. Now it spirals away, leaving him in tatters.

He lets the Force flood out of him, needs it to keep any onlooker at bay. Let him wallow in his unfathomable guilt.

 _My father. My mother. My Uncle. My….my friends._

He had friends. Jarie was one – she could have been a true one if he hadn't – if he hadn't _killed_ her! –

Something behind him explodes. Sparks fly – some medical equipment – and alarms blare out.

 _I wish for death_ , he thinks. Death has been his companion, his shadow, his upbringing for so long. He's imagined he would willingly, happily sacrifice himself to feed the Dark Side's appetite. Anything for its legacy. Now –

Now this sorrow has been choking him slowly and agonizingly, prolonging the torment he knows he deserves. He's deserved it his whole life.

He must go. He must sneak away and find Rey on his own, before the Resistance gives up on him and decide he's of better use strapped inside an interrogation cell.

In the midst of his destruction (things burst and break and fly around him) there is a gasp, shrill and childlike.

 _Who_?! Ben demands hotly. He grips Chewie's paw like an anchor. _Who has DARED to –_

There, huddled in front of him, is a bundle of two people. Both dirty and slumped together, are what Ben in his blind grief can make out as a boy, jade-skinned and hollow-eyed, and –

"Rey," he breathes, barely believing it. " _Rey_ \- !"

"Tell me what he looks like," the apparition of Rey says.

Ben sucks in a deep breath. He has to shake his head. She's still there, cradling this child he's never seen before. A quick look at her tells him she's dirty, barely dressed in rags that leave her limbs and legs bare, but she's _in one piece_. _Alive_.

"You're – " he starts, eyes wide with need. This can't be another of Snoke's manipulations. He cannot take it if it is.

"Tall," the boy says. His speech is muddled. Ben's training reminds him that Rey and the boy are speaking in another language, but through the Force, he understands every word. "Big. Human. Hair like mine. Sad. Angry."

No, this is real. Snoke could not have imagined anything so absurdly banal. They are reaching out to him, through the Force. He had found Rey this way once long ago, after he knew she had retreated to Luke's hideaway for training. He knows Rey's signature like the scent of her hair and sweat in her skin, like how she follows his saber, when he twirls it in pre-strike to limber his wrists.

But none of that familiarity is there. Only her appearance. This is…it must be the boy.

He looks right at Ben, looking just as sad and shocked. "Scar on his face."

"Big ears, too?" Rey adds (for which, Ben will blush madly at this detail).

"Under his hair."

"Good boy. You're so smart, sweetheart. Now…" she falters.

 _Oh, Rey - you're alive. You're all right!_

Too stunned to move, Ben waits with bated breath. He listens, to every word and drinks in her dulcet whispers, watching her brightened eyes (was she crying?) and how her mouth traces the boy's hair at his temple, melting at how she cradles this strange child.

"Is he sad?"

"He sees you. He's so sad."

"He's sad because he misses me." And here, Ben's blood howls in agreement. "And he'll come find us once he knows we're here." She strokes his hair, kissing his temple like this boy has been her own all along.

Ben realizes the purpose of this apparition when Rey coaches the boy about the string, about being stuck.

"You're gonna pull on that string, and show where we are. It's gonna be a lot, but I know you can do it, because he won't know you, and he'll be scared, too, but you just tell him we're okay, and tell him to listen. Make him listen like you made me listen."

At this, at the hope laced in her words, he cannot help but exhale. _That's my girl. You brilliant Knight._

Ben cannot wait anymore. Abandoning his Uncle Chewie's hand, he rushes over, half-crawling, to the huddled pair.

"Where are you?" he prods. Gently now – this child is afraid of him. "What planet are you on?"

But the boy looks up, and when Ben follows, he sees the ceiling disappear, the cold off-white walls of the medbay fading as the ink of a night sky filters through. A brilliant backdrop of violet and jet black span the ceiling, dotted with stars.

Ben will take anything, any sign. Furiously, he scans the stars and traces the patterns they make. The brightest ones he picks up: Constellations. Star maps. Any solar systems.

The ring that bisects the sky is the biggest giveaway. It's not Moraband - It's _Kaidos_. An empty planet that's been ravaged by creatures….Sithspawn.

Xolon took Ben there once. It was the hope of Sith from long ago to poison planets like Moraband with Dark Side energy, until inhabitants were weighed down in supplication to the Sith's power without need for armies; vanity disguised with efficiency. Of course, with the days of the Sith Empire so long ago, its remnants like Kaidos were left behind in the wilderness that they are.

Part of Xolon's fascination of collecting other sentient beings was poaching and reshaping dead creatures back together, fusing them with the Force the planet was made from. Creatures large and small, in herds and as rogues, ran rampant there. Armies of the dead lay buried there.

It's dangerous enough to be there as a Sith. For Light-wielders….

Ben does not know the coordinates by heart, nor the piloting memory to get there on his own. He knows, though, exactly where to go.

He knows he must go now, but he cannot leave – not when he can hold onto Rey's face for just a few more minutes, drinking in her dear freckles, her limp hair over her shoulders, her tired eyes.

 _I have you. I'm coming._

Ssssssss

Of course, nothing is ever as _he_ wants anymore. He's in the hanger, having hurriedly cast a Force Cloak to pass through the halls undetected, when he stops in his tracks and faces the _Falcon_.

Around the Corellian ship there are dozens, maybe a hundred TIE fighters, troop carriers and sleek cruisers – a combination of Imperial Navy and civilian models. All, he has an inkling, in far more superior condition than the pit-stained, half-functioning Corellian deathtrap that is his inheritance.

For kark's sake. It almost seems like bad luck _not_ taking it.

Begrudgingly, he marches up the ramp and heads for the cockpit.

It's when he rests his fingers on the radio communicator that he hesitates. As if the traitor boy waits for that moment to just _barge_ in.

"About time," Finn mutters to himself, all muscle-heavy arms and legs and invading Ben's personal space. The way he simply plops into the chair without ceremony makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

"What in kark are you doing?"

Pausing mid-way strapping himself in, Finn looks more surprised at Ben's tone. "Kriff, you look awful – "

"Want me to force the answer out of you?" Ben threatens.

Finn drops his pretense, but only by a little. "You need a copilot, and I know what new injuries this ship's collected than you do. And if we're going to find Rey, I happen to be a good luck charm for that kind of thing."

This is a larger call for truce than he deserves to expect, considering Finn is full-on Resistance. He wonders in depth how much the former Stormtrooper has seen Kylo Ren in his bouts of Force Rage. Compared to his grief over losing the pilot woman, Finn seems erected with stout optimism – something that Ben, too often surly and depressed…well, he could use it.

"By the way, there's about twelve former Stormtroopers I rescued, and those _smelly_ friends of yours that are on board."

Ben looks positively murderous. Niall and Rumley, fine – _not_ Terric. "You have no idea where we're going!"

"We're getting Rey. That's all that matters. And anyway, you seem to have an idea, otherwise you would have been meditating still."

A thousand protests die at the simplicity in Finn's tone. Damn this boy! It makes total sense, Ben knows (although to be fair, he had suspected), how Rey was plucked from a wasteland of a planet like Jakku by a stubbornly determined spirit like him.

For someone who used to bend in prayer over Darth Vader's helmet, Ben supposes he shouldn't dismiss any further good luck charms. "Have us cleared for takeoff."

Ssssssssssssss

Rey treks first through the rock formations with one hand at the saber. Lorra still has the blaster tucked at her waist while she wordlessly carries Joah.

Her feet ache so much that every step stings. They need to eat. Water must be nearby: if they continue through the beginnings of a true canyon, a gorge would have to be at the end. Having rested, Rey's survival instincts are more keen. She won't rely on Joah's Force abilities any longer if she can help it.

That Sithspawn from yesterday can't have been the only one. With the Dark Energy being so strong, she dares to conclude that this planet is known to Xolon. Of course – when your ship is sabotaged, the only advantage to gain is to land on familiar ground.

Cursing, Rey thinks of something far less damning. Venturing through these towering rocks, she is reminded of one time she encountered Ben – back as Kylo Ren.

She's not sure why she's revisiting the past so many times. Perhaps it's a desperate need for distraction.

 _He had chased her through a gorge as she had tried to avoid First Order ship scanners. He was almost upon her, fervently on the hunt – on edge, especially knowing that the two Knights he had sent after her, Nyan and Ajor, had been killed._

 _At some point he had grabbed her and pinned her down under him. She could feel the pluck of strings dancing inside his head, tighter and tighter: he crowed in delight at drowning her, the desert rat, under the shallow water, but then…_

 _She froze and stuttered her breathing. His large hands were wrapped around her neck, but no vice grip came. He looked in her eyes, fearful in most degrees, but hiding something else. Parts of those hazel eyes were green – had he not noticed that before? He was so sure he memorized every facet of her. He was momentarily stunned, and looked down on her in equal hesitation._

 _And then the blasterfire went off. TIE Fighters locked onto Rey's trajectory path, and Ren – stupid, breakneck, inattentive Ren – had left base without informing anyone again._

 _The rocks were blasted apart, raining down upon them as they scrambled to their feet to take cover. They didn't even realize they were heading in the same direction, abandoning their battle in favor of immediate survival._

 _When the cave-in happened, they retreated far into the underground caverns. Ren was, of course, too large for such stunted environment, and was immediately pinned down himself by some rock. Rey had been knocked out by a loose stone._

 _By the time Rey woke, she was in a damp, dark, cold and hard space with her sworn enemy_ fuming _at the other end just with his eyes._

 _She scuttled away – and found out that her hip was dislocated. Choking back panic –_ not _fear, thank you very much – Rey pulled herself up with very, very sore arms._

" _No use doing that," he drawled in a scornful lilt. "We're caved in."_

" _What, you only use the Force to kill people and rape their minds?" she spat._

 _Ren shook his head and huffed in that damn lazy, aristocratic manner. "You want to cut off our air flow and topple the rest of the canyon on us? Be my guest. Your untrained mind couldn't get us out of here even if your master were here instead of me."_

 _Oh. Great. Wonderful._

 _But Rey would do anything rather than stay stuck here with, with him – this murderous, half-possessed, uncomfortably enigmatic man-demon._

 _She locked eyes on him. "Better I kill the both of us and that'll be the end of you."_

 _He had ignited a flare from his belt, and the light splintered across his face. She could be mistaken – water was reflecting off the light, making everything a little dreamlike – but he looked offended._

 _Instead of lingering on his eyes, Rey looked around, sizing up any possible escape. Without asking or looking his way, Rey summoned that little light of his up into the air and pointed it at any crevice that could have auspiciously left behind some hole to crawl through._

 _It snapped out of her levitation and into his palm. "Stop taking my things!"_

 _Rey grit her teeth. What a greedy, karking dragon he was. "I was looking for an escape, your lordliness."_

" _Of course. Another testament to your amateur skill in the Force. You can't sense the pressure points of all the collapsed stones in this cave-in. Out there," he pointed, "is another fault waiting for someone dumb enough to try to push their way out. Someone like you." He watched carefully for her hackles to rise, but was unsatisfied when she ignored him. "The only way out is for someone with the right equipment, a tractor beam, for example – to dig us out. Until then, we're stuck here."_

 _Then he did something that almost spiked Rey's heartbeat: he stood up and came toward her._

Protect yourself! _Rey seized in true alarm as the Ren Knight blocked her vision. And of course, she wasn't thinking about bodily harm, or Resistance secrets being pried from her. No, more like…personal things. About him. And her._

 _But he must have sensed it. For when he knelt in front of her, he was so close he eclipsed her left side. She could feel his breath on him. It probably smelled like blood and lava because he was a demonic psycho._

 _She smelled his hot breath nonetheless, and broke into a cold sweat. This is how the spice addicts must feel like, swaying under the burning scent. So close, why was he sitting so close to her?_

" _We're all alone. Nowhere to escape. Just like you wanted." His lips moved just enough in razor-thin curves through the mechanical light. He placed a deliciously warm hand upon her pain-sodden hip, making her moan as each fingerpad kneaded her resolve away. "Kiss me."_

 _Oh. Oh, how does he know…_

Sssss

Wait, that's _not_ what happened.

"Rey!"

Shaking the cave away – and that sinful hand, burning her hip even now – Rey focuses on shadows darting along the cliffs above.

"Something's moving."

"Sh - !"

At that moment Joah gasps awake, so suddenly, as if he is sensing them. _More_ Sithspawn?

Well, of course. This _is_ a Sith haven, of sorts.

Whatever they were, they tread the earth with eerie clicking and scraping sounds. Then the scattering gave way to high-pitched yaps and yowls.

"Get your blaster out." Although Rey would be surprised if Lorra hasn't taken it already. "Joah." She spares a distinct look at the boy, staring right at his sunken eyes. "Don't be scared. We'll fight them together. All you have to do is push them."

Oh, if only she could truly _imagine_ Luke's eyes bulging out at the ineffective instruction.

Lorra proves a well-enough substitute. "What do you mean, _push_?"

"He has the Force, Lorra," she reminds him.

It is positively ludicrous to be thinking of Ben when she had just fantasized of him in the past, costing her attention and everyone's safety. But it's his snark, not his pretty fluttering eyelashes, that floods her.

 _What do I do?_ she thinks breathily. _These are_ your _nasties. What do I do, Ben?_

If Ben _were_ here – and isn't that a most comforting idea, her dark knight standing beside her, snarling as if he were armed to his own teeth – he'd probably say something oh-so-characteristically _elegant_.

 _Don't think so hard, scavenger_ , he would say. _You stick that weapon right where it belongs!_

Sssssssssss

Ben and Finn got as far as a second outside the hanger when Poe's voice crackled to life.

"Finn! Tell that…self-obsessed idiot," he admonishes (Ben is sure Poe was about to say _monster_ ) "to dock the _Falcon_ in ten seconds. He's grounded."

 _Oh, yeah?_ Ben muses, breath hot through his flared nostrils.

Finn, on the other hand, is tightly pensive. "Yeah, um. I'm piloting. It's my mission."

The reaction is a sharp, drawn-out " _What_?" (while Ben only harrumphs, unimpressed). He allows the younger man to explain his ability to keep the unstable _Ben Solo_ from flying into some unnecessary murderous rage…or, just as likely, exposing himself to any First Order settlements. Ben tells himself he doesn't need to be escorted. A ridiculous reminder of how Hux was always at his heels, chattering belligerently about some breach of protocol, threatens to bubble into a migraine.

"Look, I know you probably don't need me," Finn seems to interject Ben's thoughts. "But, I don't know, maybe we do need to do this together."

Something odd and kind pricks at Ben's spine at the suggestion. This…friendliness is akin to how Rey first reached out to him. Though he has been far more welcome to someone he had seen as an equal, from the beginning, to this inferior.

He won't make it easy. Still – he spares a glance at their charted course. Twelve hours.

"I…won't disagree." Then he gripes, almost sullenly, "Is this where we exchange petty little details about each other?"

Finn's reply is a tingle of uncertain amusement. "Um. Well. I mean, up to you – "

Ben sighs up to the ceiling. "Why don't you tell me what you've been up to since we last parted from our exile?"

Finn purses his lips in an attempted smile. "I went on my own to locate the source of all the propaganda channels. I suppose I should have asked you about it before we left that planet, but…I wasn't very good at thinking."

He means his pilot girlfriend; dead. Ben cannot remember her name.

"Ever since I left and joined the Resistance, I had been so…determined to recreate Starkiller's victory. Learned the hard way that…being on the other side of the First Order's worse than being in the ranks. A lot of people didn't trust me, and the General thought making me her liason would prove them wrong. Kinda did. Anyways…this whole time fighting – them, the Stormtroopers. No one really seemed to get it – it may have been easier for them that the enemy all had the same face, but I knew better. I still had a few friends I left behind. And the propaganda channels – "

"Located in a secret floor of Sbaro Flynch's penthouse," Ben coolly added. Sbaro Flynch was a well-known holo-producer with secret First Order loyalties. He had an easy excuse – in his industry, his secret studio could be dismissed as pornography setting.

If only Poe were here. His jaw would have dropped at the infamous name, while Finn only shrugs.

"Right. Like I said, should have asked. I got tailed and had to land on this swamp planet – Brislo. A bunch of these dirty, scared people found me, all kids. They were Stormtrooper cadets sent for _reconditioning_." The weight of this word matched the grave look Finn hesitantly gave Ben. "They had escaped the facility and were running for their lives. So I stayed with them for about a week, and we broke into the place, took it over. All the survivors and I tried radioing for help, but eventually we left on First Order transports and had to trade them in for a civilian ship."

Ben had sensed and run a careful mind-perception over the huddled people outside of the cockpit. Their energies are tense in a way trained soldiers couldn't master, considering that this type of focus was childlike at the same time. Typical Stormtrooper behavior.

Reconditioning was Hux's idea of sorting out the bad batches; teenagers, even children who hadn't displayed standard levels of obedience, even acted out; most likely showed fear during weapons training. It _was_ genocide.

"How…suitable," Ben settles for. "I regretted not getting the chance to go after Hux's pride. He went absolutely insecure when we found out you deserted us and rescued Dameron."

Finn snuffs a short laugh, nodding slowly. "Yep."

"You've made yourself an army of turncoats. How many have you liberated?"

Scoffing at the heroic term, Finn replies, "There are twenty with us now, but there are about…fifty on the Boshtar. I left about thirty of the younger ones back with one of the caretakers at this school. They shouldn't have to be in this, so hopefully they'll grow up without any fighting."

Ben can't believe what he's hearing. This boy – it's his kind face, full of promise, just like Rey's, damn her – has risen into something of a born leader, a hero. Growing up, Ben had trouble comprehending how his Uncle Luke rose from obscurity at 19 and shot down the entire first Death Star – and then took down the Empire at 23. Seeing the tired pain and the iron in Finn's frame made Ben believe.

Staring between the viewport and Finn's copilot console, he told Finn as much. The younger man almost balked. He was never compared to Skywalker –for obvious reasons.

"Uncle Luke…was more than just a man with the Force," Ben explained. "He was just like you. He just wanted to do the right thing."

An earnest smile threatens to break across Finn's face. He looks ahead and turns it into another shrug just in time. Equally, Ben wants to admonish himself for such an – open, gentle thing to say. His father's gruffness is to blame.

Ssssss

 _These hounds are like_ shadows _!_ Rey curses as the sharp black shapes close in on her, snarling and purring. They threaten to swallow her green saber.

But Rey is of Jakku and has never cowed yet from a fight – certainly not with a saber in her hand.

"Joah," she whispers. The boy must see her. She holds up her fist. From the corner of her eye, he is doing the same. Just as she flings out her fingers, splayed grandly in a release gesture, Joah's little fingers from behind usher a great wind, brushing ever so gently around Rey as the hounds fall back like leaves.

Her strength waning, Rey thinks of the wretched sand-thieves who tried to rob her as a child. It bolsters her more, and the hum of the saber assists her. It is an extension of her bare will to survive. She arcs the weapon as wide as possible, covering her, Lorra and Joah.

Behind is a blaster sound, crushing a hound that slinked so far from Rey's right.

 _How do you even the odds?_ Luke always tested her. Even though this was her constant, self-taught lesson in the Graveyards.

"Lorra, the rocks! Get us a way out of here!" her urgency is cast by the sickly green saber, a demonic scowl on her face.

Lorra shoots a few more times, this time as carefully as an untrained Inner Rim girl can muster.

Rey manages to gut one or two more of these hounds, but their jaws, the largest part of their faces, snap so close to her skin.

There's a cracking sound followed by quick echoes of heavy crumbling. Boulders that Lorra has shot are loosening. In the dark, despite the plum-colored night sky, they barrel down. They crush a few hounds who lose their footing, but Rey is fighting half-blind and could get in their way.

"Joah!" she calls out.

There is no return answer. She has no time to see, but he is half-squashed in Lorra's terrified grasp.

There's a sudden loss of balance in Rey's momentum. She stumbles, in an arc thrust that she should have only attempted when she's at her best. Dizzy, she kneels. A hound leaps onto her back.

"No!" Lorra slaps the hand she protected Joah onto her shaking blaster grip, and fires at the inky shape on Rey's back. It's a clumsy shot, so she fires again, almost forgetting that she could harm Rey, too.

But Rey's shaken. It's too late. That shallow current of darkness swells back up again until she can only inhale it.

She looks at the remaining hounds; six, maybe seven, that she can see in the dark. The ones not cut down or squished by rocks smell like singed flesh. Their small wounds remind her of the fuel such pain causes to things begotten by the Sith.

 _I'm not getting past this,_ she believes. It is a clear thing in her head. They keep their bellies low to the ground, ready to overwhelm her.

She cannot see Joah, or Lorra. The poor boy has resorted to his hiding trick again, out of fear of death.

He will survive, as will Lorra.

 _Cave_ , Joah's shaken voice whispers hurriedly. _There's a cave_!

Wearily, keeping the hounds at bay simply by whipping the sword over her, Rey looks for the pair. There is a small opening.

The observation is costly. Behind her, a hound moves on soft paws and sinks its teeth into the meat of her bicep.

"Ahhh!" Rey is robbed of her shocked cry as this one shakes her. She feels the teeth actually tear her flesh, squeeze her bones to crack –

And then another, on her calf. The second one pulls her in the other directions, shoulders rearing madly.

They've pinned her down and will pull her apart.

Rey almost loses the grip of her lightsaber ( _I'm going to die_ ) when the sharpest wind, smoky and old, blows over them. It's gone in a second, but it causes the hounds to retreat. They whimper in such a way that the saber she wielded on the dead ones never did.

Something much darker than them has discovered the three of them.

Dazed and scorching in her wounds, Rey shivers. She looks up at the sky. The color, once almost beautiful, feels sickly like a bruise.

"Rey!" Lorra hurriedly drops to the dirt. "You alive?"

Rey tries not to whimper like those demons. "Ughhh…"

"Come on, we'll get you up. Joah!"

The little boy bumbles over and promptly rests on Rey's chest. He sobs.

"I'm sorryyyy…" he moans, gurgling tears and a thick throat.

Lorra grimaces in her sorrow. "Oh, baby, that's okay. You did great, you scared them away."

 _I don't think that smoke-wind was him_ , Rey thinks despite the lightning of agony in her calf and arm.

They rip apart what little clothes between them have. Parts of Rey's shorts are torn off, and Joah kindly offers his shirt-sleeve. Rey melts at his gloomy eyes and kisses his head. They make bandages for Rey's calf and her arm, but not before Rey has to cauterize each bite mark with the saber.

"Let me show you – easy," Rey pants, stubbornly aloft from blood loss. She holds the torn flesh as closely together as Lorra's pursed lips, who has to be chided into touching the blade at a very low emission in order to seal the wounds.

After Lorra is sure she won't throw up, they manage to get Rey standing. Joah hugs her waist, while Lorra slings the same arm on the side of her bleeding calf over her shoulder.

With the three of them huddled so closely together, they eye the opening of the cave carefully.

"Cave?" Lorra suggests carefully. "It'll provide cover."

"We don't know where it goes, or what lies inside."

Lorra's shoulders sinks, but then Joah sniffles and says, " _He_ says it's safe."

Rey's eyes harden, gaping. Joah looks like he's half-asleep, and Rey has to steady him. She has a feeling she knew who he was talking about, but on this haunted planet, friends' voices cab easily be disguised by enemies.

" _Who_ says? Ben?" she demands. "You're _sure_?"

Joah is already nodding like an exasperated child is supposed to, and then dissolves her suspicions in the only way he knows how.

He touches her in a careless manner, splaying a hand on her bare stomach. It's a surprising contact that Rey can dismiss from a child who doesn't know boundaries with his caretakers, but in an instant the touch heats into something else – someone else –

 _Rey_ , he says; _Ben_ says, surrounding her as if he were standing above her, and the too-small hand spreads deliciously on her abdomen like he has the right to lay it there.

 _It's all right. It's safe_. Then, after a moment: _watch your step._

His echo is gone in a breath. It's like it never happened. Rey feels something inappropriately deep in her, and mourns the contact ripped from her. Joah's small form buckles. He's out like a light, exhausted from sharing his poor, untrained mind with a master of the Force.

 _He's contacted Joah_ , Rey realizes. _He's got to be careful, he could split Joah's mind, he's still so delicate._

Well, if he says it's safe…

Has he been here before? It's not like Ben has confided about his training with Snoke or Xolon…on Sher'hatha, as soon as he defected, it was mostly about First Order secrets and random bits of training.

There could be surprises under there….

Rey thinks of the saber at her belt. She will no longer be fit enough to fight with it, with her throbbing leg. Lorra is blissfully unhurt (intact, more like); _she_ should be the one to go first – she'd see harm better, and under tighter constraints in a cave, Rey can still use the saber without any excessive footwork. She can stay closer to Joah while defending him.

Still.

"I'll go first."


	47. Chapter 47

The Call to the Light

By TheOneAndOnlySlayer

Chapter 47

sssssssss

"Whoa. Whoa, hey, Solo. _Solo_."

Ben can barely keep his eyes open; a piercing ache erupted in his head not too long ago.

On his right, Finn is half out of the copilot's seat. "The sensors – you see those?"

His urgency beats at Ben's skull like a turgid tide. They've dropped out of hyperspace already. Kaidos is just a small moon-sized planet with barely enough atmosphere for scant life; enough for Sithspawn. As the _Falcon_ moves forward, the black gives way to even-spaced dots; they surround the planet.

"Stop. Make a circle around." Ben informs Finn on the ring's true purpose. The ring doubles as a manmade infiltrator shield - little mine sensors are hidden within the fields of asteroid and gas, lying dormant until it can pick up the _Falcon's_ signal and chase it until explosion on impact. Up to a hundred of them can chase a vessel at once, leaving behind a multiplied blast radius.

The younger man's eyes widen. "Wow," he breathes. "So how do we get in?"

Ben tries to will away another wave of ache in his head. It's as if an axe has taken form inside and wants to chop itself out of his brain. _Snoke_ knows he's here, and is trying to pry his focus apart.

Ignoring Finn's sudden look of concern, Ben calms the grazing rush in his head. _I can do this._

"We give chase," he concludes tightly through his teeth.

"Wha – fly through those things?" Finn interjects, incensed. "You just said - "

"I'm fine," Ben mutters. "Will you copilot or sit in the gunner's seat?"

Just then, Niall enters the cockpit. "What's the holdup?"

Finn briskly tells the convict-of-all-trades to the gunner's seat. Ben decides he likes the traitor soldier better when he's all stressed out and giving orders that _he_ doesn't have to make.

Finn glares at Ben. "You don't look good. Does Snoke know we're here?"

"Most likely," Ben admits, strapping himself in.

Finn's eyes widen until the whites blaze. He grumbles as he gropes for his own straps and calls on the intercom for everyone to fasten to something tight.

"I'll be going under deep," Ben warns Finn, referring to his battle meditation. He can go fast enough and maneuver the _Falcon_ in ways so the mines can confuse their trajectory – hit each other – but his preparation is shot. Finn can't try and shake him. "If I don't – "

"I know, I've done this with Rey before," the younger man comments. "Just don't get us killed – !"

The last of that warning is robbed from Finn's throat. Eyes narrowed, mouth set, Ben pushes down hard at the console. It's like a half-dive, half- _charge_.

Later, when they land, Finn will sit in dead silence and memorize how many barrel spins Ben made, how many commands he had Finn release explosive debris to set off a few trailing mines prematurely. He'll remember how Niall's shooting of the dozen mines caused a chain reaction, throwing the _Falcon_ so off-course it was like they drowned. All with Ben's eyes _closed_.

Finn must congratulate himself on not throwing up. Or screaming. Or pissing himself. That was the most suicidal moment of his life.

Leia said it best: _Fucking Jedi._

Sssssss

 _I'm here. I'm coming._

Ben does his best to project this in the most accurate, and hidden, trail possible. That boy, the crying, green-skinned hybrid; whoever he is, he's the best giveaway to Rey's location. The Dark Side energy has swallowed him, smothering his focus into finding her.

There is a horrifying moment halfway to the main cabin where Ben is overcome with – with a liberation of some kind, warm and careless. Whispers curl lovingly around him, like tendrils. His shoulders sag. He bites his lip.

 _You can be free of this burden of yours. Stop fighting. Let this go._

 _I can't,_ Ben urges.

 _You can_. With no mind, Ben feels his fingers brush against his (Luke's – no. His!) saber.

 _Just let all this go. Let THEM go!_

Ben seizes himself, inhaling sharply – it's bloodlust that almost has him.

"Ugghh, _stop_!" he growls mournfully, so low and hoping Finn doesn't hear him. He has to choke it _down_.

"Solo."

Finn did hear that, then. Ben's hand clenches – away from his saber.

Finn looks at the man whom, all his adulthood, heard was possessed by demons. Just as he began to think, _he is just a man; a man with weaknesses,_ the chill at Finn's spine is awakened again.

"There's something different about this planet." Fear, the right kind of fear, emanates from Finn, prickling at Ben's spine as well. The predator in him sharpens at Finn's realization.

Ben leans against the wall. "This place is cursed with Dark Side energy. Spirts of the dead lay here. Sithspawn are born here. If Rey is alive…. _if she's alive_ – " He risks a pleading look at this younger man, earnest and noble. "I have to find her."

That's enough for Finn, who nods in understanding and ushers them further out.

He's on his way to the ramp when he's confronted by Niall, and more than a dozen teenage Stormtrooper defectors. They eye him, speechless at the face that has lied under Kylo Ren's mask.

"Any of you have something to say, say it," Finn tells them squarely.

The young ones project and uneasy silence until one pipes up, "We're supposed to follow you?"

"No, you all stay with the ship," Ben stares them down. "I'm going alone."

When he doesn't hear Finn object, Ben turns to him. "I expected you to protest somehow."

"Me too," Finn admitted. "Something tells me…" he grimaces in embarrassment. "I'm not supposed to go with you."

"You're getting smarter," Ben comments drily, buckling an emergency kit with water and supplies to his belt. "Heroics are for fools."

"Could use a hand in some killing," Niall offers, not exactly eager either.

"Not like this." Non-Force users could get caught up in the darkness. He's seen victims kill themselves over the depth of the energy's madness it causes.

He takes out Luke's saber and holds it to Finn, who blinks. "I have the other."

Scowling, Finn takes it. The symbolism is lost to them both: last time Luke's saber came in between them, Ben almost left Finn for dead.

Ben looks ahead at the wilderness. If he's right, the mindless creatures will come to him, with all his darksider power. He can resist – he has to. He hopes.

"I won't be long."

Sssssss

To the trio's surprise, the tunnel gives way to massive, high-ceilinged routes. Parts of the walls are carved, but they are rudimentary. Rey guesses there were more important things for the Sith to do, like create death-creatures like the Sithspawn, among other lethal things. Luke told her about how planets like Moraband are full of regal-like areas, like the Valley of the Dark Lords.

And won't that be a horrid thing – that this actually _is_ Moraband. But Rey knows better; Moraband's sky is red, not plum edged in silver.

It's not as if anywhere else on the planet is safe. It's a mad idea, burrowing deep into a cavern where there is no immediate escape. But, the air is not stale. A cross-breeze suggests exits are close by, and rimlight from the sky filters through.

The three have gone through the cave for almost an hour until they reach an open space. It's wet down here. The dripping sounds echo in a deceptively calm fashion.

Rey has to stop. She can guess how the others are feeling – they need to rest and eat. Rey may have had a meal in the private room with Jirah, but Joah or Lorra hadn't had any nourishment in more than a day. The dripping of the water taps like clanging metal. She's fading, and her wounds have made her faint.

Flexing the saber too tightly, to keep her fingers tight with feeling, Rey looks for a place to sit. Her feet have been trudging on bare ground for weeks, edging from mild discomfort to agony, and now past the breaking point to lifeless stumps. Occasionally, sinew from the arches have stretched nastily into needle-like pain.

Something from the corner of her eye stops her. Scattered in between the stalagmites and flowstones are thin, bare shapes; skeletons, large and small. Offhand, Rey counts a dozen. One or two are definitely humanoid.

"Whoa, creepy," Lorra announces, cutting herself off. Rey doesn't have to hush her.

Rey sighs, calling Joah's name softly. She hates needing his help.

He leans into Lorra's waist and shakes his head. There's no one there with them.

 _Good_ , Rey thinks. After that last attack – she doesn't think she can take another one. She's so tired and weak, cursing herself for not grabbing stashes of food in the hostage ship, she was in the kitchen, for kriffsake –

 _Click_.

Rey goes stone-still. Her feet are numb like shoe leather, but after a second she feels it under her dirty sole: metal.

 _What the kriff –_

And then there is a whirring sound from across the cave.

"LOR – !"

There's no time, no air to scream. A blast rips the dark bubble of space between Rey and Lorra, holding Joah at her waist. Fire blooms, announcing the crash of rock from above and around. The sound is like sledgehammers blasting from the sky.

Rey is sure she's been squashed, and her sluggish body has not processed it yet. She is thrown to the ground – her leg is on fire, her other leg. Dust hits her in a sharp cloud.

"Rey! REEEEEY!"

She coughs up old dirt. _It's…who, who is that?_

"Rey, for kriffsake, can you hear me!?"

The saber is thrown across her – green light casts a half-blocked glow across the ground. She sifts hurriedly through what just happened: Rey tried to jump out of the way of the cave-in. The collapse was brought on by an explosive of some kind, judging by the smell of chemical burn. A quick look at what her leg is caught in, biting at the flesh like teeth, condemns it all: she stepped in a booby trap.

She could have killed Lorra and Joah. Realizing she can't see them, that she's blocked from them, she thinks _yes, she has_.

Hazel eyes begin to sting with tears, salt-harsh with spoiled hope. _Your fault,_ she thinks. She clenches her fists and smacks them on the ground. _Your fault, YOUR FAULT_.

"I'm all right!" she calls back, too shrill. Rey can't speak for a minute because she has to stop weeping first. She should have known better, should've kept vigilant, been careful. The Sith revel in more underhanded methods of ending their enemies than guerilla tactics used by the Resistance.

 _STUPID booby trap_ , Rey curses. _You did this…._

"Rey, will you ANSWER ME?!"

 _I can't save them_ , Rey is sure now. This trap – the skeletons, she should have had them turn around. This was a doomed pathway. Suddenly the notion that Joah, a child, had reached Ben through the Force…and that he had responded, touching her in such a sensual way…here, in the scant chamber that cradled her from death a minute ago, it makes no sense.

There is darkness leeching through every crevice. Of course this weight inside of her would know her – her secrets; her weakness. Of course the shadow would take Ben's face, his hollow voice and trick her.

Rey turns her head awkwardly. In the saber's direction, caught between bundles of rock, is a jumbled half-skeleton. The humanoid's skull stares sadly back at Rey, speaking from time ago on how it similarly met its fate.

This planet is trying to kill them.

Rey lets her head scrape on the stone as she turns back up to the gloom. "Lorra," she croaks. "Do you see a way out?"

"Just the way back out," Lorra tells her. "No, wait! I see something…it looks like – "

"Don't – don't go that way," Rey tells her. "Go back where we came from, the exact way back. I'm _stuck_ ," she points out, answering the question before it leaves Lorra's lips.

Rey abruptly sharpens in realization. "Where's Joah – is he okay?"

"He's – he's here, he's put his ear to the rocks. Can you move?"

Rey clenches her entire face to not sob. "I stepped onto a booby trap. It's cutting into me. The skeletons….I think…" She's grateful she can't see Lorra's face.

Lorra hesitates, unseen. "Maybe he can - "

"No," Rey demands. _Not Joah._ "It's too much to…he can't do it." She is starkly remembered, in the dance of shadows she causes and in her foul mood, of what Ben-and-Kylo told her from her recent memory. "Any wrong move, and we could die. He's keeping you both hidden."

The silence tells her that Lorra _knows_. "Rey…."

"Lorra, it's okay." On the ground again, helpless, Rey finds herself calm. "It's okay."

"It is not okay!" There's a scuffing sound from where Lorra's feeble voice calls out. She's pawing the boulders that separate her and Rey. "We can't… I can't – "

Slumping, Rey gives in again. She'll be failing him. In that moment, she is overcome with the vision of poor Jirah. Jirah, cold and dead, face so giving, tender even as death clawed her down, and so deserving of Chiroh's embrace, back on Welcha.

"Reyyy…." This is Joah's voice, frail as a ghost. " _Rey, come on_."

 _I can't do this._ "It's all right, Joah," she whimpers, forgetting her Huttese. " _You and Lorra have to go back the other way. Help is coming, remember?_ "

" _It's dark in here_ ," Joah reminds her.

" _Help is coming_ ," Rey repeats evenly, then switches to Basic for Lorra. She grunts, adjusting to the swell of stinging pain everywhere, but primarily from the trap digging sharp points into the meat of her calf.

"Rey," Lorra's voice is flat. "No one's coming."

"Yes, they are. Ben's coming. I know it." _I don't know how, or if it's the Dark Side, but he must._

"Rey…." Lorra won't give into this for a long time. Rey can tell, though, from the bend of her own whimper, that she realizes it's the only way. "How will I _know_?"

"Just…..use the blaster." The saber's wicked green glow will be her only comfort, until Lorra and Joah indeed find help. Or even if not. "And trust the Force. We've come this far."

ssssssss

The hope that someone is coming convinces them to leave. She continues to assure them until they are gone, until the silence deafens her tiny world, until she allows herself to sigh and let the tears soak her hair and well into the slopes of her ears.

 _Please_. So great is her despair that her mouth curves these words, despite the silence in her throat. She cannot scream. She needs to hope. She's been through worse. She can't die in a cave. She can't. _Not when Ben is coming. He's on his way. He must be._

With that on her mind, she washes away the salt and the sense of death. She meditates. She lets it all go, just as Luke had instructed her many times _("You are in a war," he had once said, after another failed battle, and he had found her deaf with mourning. "There will always be despair, but you walk the path of hope and infinity. You will always find a way. The light will always be there"_ ).

 _Ben. Ben, please help. Please._ She lets the thought swell inside her, and instantly she feels, impossibly, lighter again. _Come find me. Ben. Ben – Ben – Ben –_

…But it does not last.

sssssssss

She dreams of the sun.

The sun had been her entire life for so long. It beat into her body until her skin became stained from it. It had been so raw, and it didn't take young Rey long to learn of its cruelty, too: barren land and carrion, and settlements that must have looked like scabs from space.

She misses the sun. All light for the past…month? It has to have been a month. All light since Welcha has been teasing starlight or moonlight, silver and pallid. She misses the life, and the green – oh, the green! Takodana, her first baptism into what life within a planet really means. All that soft soil, too, velvety and moist. She could have eaten it, the pungency was mistaken for sweet.

It's easy to imagine its bounce of that color in the halo of the saber.

And water, lovely and translucent, shiny like metal and so pure. So much of it. Her dirty throat lurches at the forgotten sensation.

A fitting place to have met her adversary, Kylo Ren. The beast with the man hidden away, peeking just at the sight of her.

And oh, she had fantasized how differently that could have gone, too. She knows of myths and fairy tales well enough. She has inherited Han Solo's ship and has been trained by Luke Skywalker: she reasoned long ago that she could have this, too:

He would have – hmm, he would have stopped dead at the sight of her. Just imagine: he would have held her away with the Force, because she's still dangerous (she knows her worth, and she is his equal). Slowly, he would have taken off his helmet, that gorgeous hair spilling out and framing his face, stricken with careful curiosity, and admiration. He wants to see her for himself, drink all of her in.

Rey _knows_ she is powerful, and lethal. He appraises her, then dares to approach her, like he would a wild predator. Fear flickers in his eyes. Rey finds she likes that. She decides to come closer.

Sssssssss

She grows more tired, slipping out of consciousness. Something sweeter than agony seems to keep her aloft down there. It's the same drug-like hope that she acquired growing up, of her imaginary parents descending form the sky to take her home. She should be ashamed at her desperation, of her hallucinations, but she can't. So she tells herself it's just visions. Maybe they are.

Ssssssss

"Rey. _Rey_."

She blinks. It's _Ben's_ voice – well, it's male, but –

"Rey…Maker, you're…."

She opens her eyes and sees him, sees his unmistakable outline. Even his eyes gleam in the dark, like those hounds from above. They rest fervently on her.

She rears up, wanting to – _needing_ to touch him. He's here, in front of her right now. But everything feels so dreamy. Maybe she's concussed. If he's not real…

Her hand is dirty. She rubs it on her tattered clothing before touching his cheek. He's cold. If only she could make him warmer.

His fair, proud head sinks into her palm. "Ohhh…" his hushed moan trails into her, making her close her legs. She watches the bend of the rimlight arc across his dark crown of hair.

Wiping the other hand on her thigh, she brings it up to touch it. They had only kissed that morning that they parted, and it was so unfair, so quick. Her cheek slides home against his own, and she inhales his skin's scent.

 _He's so cold_ , she wonders.

"How…?" Yes, how did he remove the cave-in? The ceiling is so tall, and still, even bent on the floor with her, he hovers like a dark moon above her.

"How did you…?"

"I heard you. I heard you, Rey." His voice rumbles mournfully against her face. Her hand traces his throat as his words vibrate against it. "You called to me, and I will _always_ find you."

Oh.

His carved nose presses against her temple. Lips encompass her jaw. She shivers when the moisture from them slides against her. " _Always_."

She must drive her thighs tighter, to keep the sensations from overwhelming her. Her hip, side and breast tingles from where he presses himself against her, drawing her beaten body into his own.

"Oh, you're – " Yes. Yes, he's here, just as she's wanted. How long has it been since she's seen his face, heard his voice?

He keeps kissing her, growing on insistent. He's proving his presence by nuzzling against the side of her face. Won't he look at her?

The kisses grow stronger. He moves tantalizingly down her neck, where tendons stretch hungrily to meet his tongue, lips and teeth.

"Ohhh," she breathes. She should be hurting – she is – but his strength feels so good to her. He's here, holding her, making her feel alive and safe. Nothing else matters.

Nothing else matters and she can barely breathe from it.

"Alwayyys," his voice rumbles strangely, like the crawling of so many little things rushing down the stone. It reminds her of the first whisper of rain and thunder, soft then harsh.

Rey find herself reaching some rigid plane. Where he kisses her, she feels her blood pull into his lips, as if he's sucking the warmth from her.

 _Yes. Get me out of here. He can take it…_

His hands – when did they come around her? – wrap tightly across her back. The squeezing sensation makes her gasp. Her lungs constrict. She is _safe_.

Let him have her, hold her just in this moment.


	48. Chapter 48

The Call to the Light

By TheOneAndOnlySlayer

Chapter 48

Author's note: Omigosh – DUDE. We won everything, guys. Seriously what a FANTASTIC film, and a slow-cooked relationship the likes that no one has ever seen before. We are so lucky. Rian Johnson is a game-changer and he has my respect as a creator.

I'm so glad I saw more of Daisy and Adam's chemistry ignite together. Seeing more emotional range of their characters is a treat – we all have been going on our own (and doing very well) for a 2-year dry spell. I see so much more of Kylo/Ben and Rey that will better feed my own unique story of their journey together.

Fanfiction writers, let's celebrate. We've done well and we will continue making magic. Fanfic readers, we live to feed your unfulfilled, undreamt promises.

Sssssssss

No one seems surprised that the _Falcon's_ sensors are scrambled from the Dark Energy's disturbance (though the prick of fear jumpstarts into a staccato that Ben could drum his fingers to). They do, however, find the cargo ship in a matter of minutes due to its most recent heat signature. Cautious of any traps, or Sithspawn that lie underneath the sand, Ben has the _Falcon_ hover until he's satisfied he can't sense any immediate danger.

His heart jerks at the jilted reaction that there are no life forms below. The ship is split apart and there's no sign of the tail. Smoke and leftover fires dapple the ground. Death echoes in old waves.

He hops off the ramp, determined to zero in on signs of what transpired.

Apart from the Force demonstrating to him in aches, the smell is the tell-tale giveaway that there are bodies inside of the ship: rotting flesh and spilled, drying blood. The lack of noise suggests animals have not corrupted the carrion.

He knows it before he walks inside the trashed ship: Rey is not here. In the vision Ben experienced in the medbay with Chewbacca, she looked like she and the boy were wedged within a tight rocky area. A cave, or maybe a gorge?

Behind him, minutes later, Finn is less understanding. He bursts through anticipating answers in the form of perhaps one survivor. "Anyone?" he asks, eyes openly hopeful.

"No," Ben says flatly. "She was here…there was a struggle." In the graveyard of hurried, disassembled thoughts, he sifts through them to piece together the crash. "Sabotage. There are….too many people. _Were_. There were…dozens, maybe." Ben stills, feeling utterly hollow and sick. "They were starving. Weakened. The Force…" he trails off. In a way, Finn doesn't deserve to know this. "The Force was strong here. Growing, weakly, but…there were people who had it under their skin this whole time. It feels…"

He shakes in discomfort. "It feels clumsy and erratic…like when I was a child. They could barely harness it. Kriff, it's like… _finger paintings_ all over the place." Perhaps that can explain the child's unnatural presence in the Force?

"The Force-Sensitives. Poe told me, about Rastro…" Grim-faced, Finn looks down the misshapen hall of the ship. He takes out a torch and heads down. Ben, on the other hand, feels pulled away from something outside.

Careful of the tracks, he studies them as he finds his way out. Becoming more perturbed with each discovery, Ben collects a few conclusions: most of the people on this ship were barefoot, mostly humanoid. About a half-dozen tracks actually reach out across the dirt. He finds blood streaked along the ground, too; several people have been dragged, wounded.

His stomach flip-flops and then freezes when he finds one body that made it outside, an Iktochi. When Ben kneels to inspect it, his hand snaps away as if burned: every bone in the body is broken. There is a thunder of betrayal that hangs above the body, and the final pray of desperation from the victim.

Xolon. This was Xolon's doing. But he's long gone; Ben's cast out using the Force to sense other Force-wielders and, even if Xolon were hiding, there's no one here.

Ben's blood begins to rumble anew. His face tightens in hatred. This body has been cooling for almost a day. If he hadn't been feeling _sorry_ for himself back on the _Boshtar_ -

"Solo!" Finn rushes back to him. "There's…there's – cells. Cages," Finn's voice rasps in disbelief, horror. "I – "

"She's not here," Ben barks sternly, not about to be distracted by how Rey has occupied this vessel. He rises from the body of the young Iktochi who put up a good fight. He had been strong…even Ben could pick it up. All a waste of potential.

He eyes a rocky outcropping rising from the flat, barren wasteland on his left. It must be thirty kilometers away. Cutting off his physical senses for the moment, he allows the Force free reign to point him forward: what lies ahead?

Echoes of a foggy, empty void respond to his probing. Usually, the telltale sign of a void in the Force suggest that what he is looking for is right in that direction. This way, though, has a far too murky feeling connected to it.

 _Are you there?_ He asks, mostly to distract himself. If Rey's been cut off from her powers, he wonders if that may be better; to not be prey to the hypersensitivities of the Dark Side's activities.

He thinks with a sniff as he marches back to the _Falcon_ , looking for the hoverbike Rey or Terric had stowed, that Rey may have finally gotten what she wanted – a life free of the Force. Stupid girl

Ssssss

Out in the barren twilight, the hoverbike threads through the quiet and the dust.

At first, as the wind raced past him, Ben's insides began to relax. He is so, so close. His eyes dry without any headgear as the speed hurls him forward. The navigation transmitter to the _Falcon,_ feeding him the signal to radiation from the most recent wreckage, falters in and out. Any otherwise irritating discomforts, Ben dismissed belligerently.

But the longer he crosses the vast ground, with nothing in sight, his morose, thunderous pessimism takes over. He's afraid of what he'll find: Rey, dead, or dying. Rey's body streaked with lightsaber wounds; half-eaten by some Sithspawn creature. Xolon, the stone-faced degenerate, standing over her.

The entire planet is a soul-gripping death trap and he is on borrowed time.

The dream he had weeks ago plays back, vivid as ever, of her broken neck lolling in his embrace. His throat churns, because even as he forces himself to bring back that horrible vision, that sound of her neck…he can't deny anymore that she has always been so sweet to look at.

He almost lurches guiltily in his seat at that inappropriate thought. _Stop it!_ he admonishes. He blames it on missing her.

Something soft, like air passing between a pair of lips, brushes just over his shoulder. A whisper: _Ben_.

Ben almost chokes. It's chalk-thin, so frail it was its own little breeze. It can't be _her_ voice….

No. Not her. It's the Dark, luring him. He knows this energy like the scent of his childhood bed.

He had stopped the bike immediately, favoring sensibility over being taken by surprise. Casting his senses out, a net to surround the voice, he turns as it takes shape.

 _My friend._

He stops himself just a moment before: he will not look at it. He _will_ start to see visions and he must not allow them to ensnare him.

 _Turn around. It's me._

It's a blurryrepresentation of Rey, barely dry from the paint of his mind. It's barely been two weeks, yet the urgency vibrating in his person makes him so desperately want to see if his last memory of her large almond eyes still have some sort of spark in them.

She stands in her rough-spun Jedi garb, the clothes he last saw her in; her signature trappings of a gauzy cross-wrap over her tunic, and arm wraps from her biceps to her wrists. She stands, expectant and glorious. There is something else about this vision of her, a glow. It's far too sharp and predatory to be attributed to her personality. The real Rey is too warm and bright for that. It's like a demonic gleam in her eyes, visible only in a certain catch of the light. Remembering how, on that seized Rodian ship, a vision of Rey molting into Snoke, Ben begins to recoil at this new form.

His mouth feels like it's been cemented shut, he's gone so rigid. "You-will-not-speak," he rasps out.

There is a breath of time. _It_ responds in a derisive, playful tone. "You are not my master."

Oh, and she _would_ say that in that tone.

This shadow of the woman who has undone Kylo Ren comes forward, arching safely out of reach to the side of Ben's vision. He stares straight ahead. He should…keep going. He can't feel his fingers.

"You're not…." Ben can't move. He swears his chest is collapsing. "You're not here."

He's supposed to _know_ that apparitions of the Force, designed by even the most powerful Darksiders, have their flaws. Lack of the most discrete of sounds, like footsteps or the shifting of clothing give it away. Yet, Ben can hear the soft swish of _her_ footsteps in the dust: one – two – three. Her biceps gleam in the rimlight. Even her mouth is half-closed in a way he knows she – _it's_ – pensive.

This Rey reaches out to him. She…it… looks confused, hurt.

 _Protect yourself_ , Ben begs himself.

Something cold, gnarled and metallic slams on his hand. Ben almost jumps out of his seat. His head whips around and he sees – he sees –

Luke's face is a grave of silvered lines and dark hollows. Oh, Uncle. _Skywalker_. Hit at once with features once so traceable, yet new, Ben almost recoils. His eyes gleam sickly like they've drowned underwater. To cast a more haunted shadow, his apparition wears a hood, channeling death into Ben.

"You dare to return – " Luke condemns (voice so old and raw).

" – On hallowed ground," Rey finishes, expression cold. "You come here a traitor."

The metal hand pinning Ben's to the steering handle seizes tighter. "Perhaps we should just kill him now." The Luke-apparition rasps.

Ben has had enough; he feels like he might rip his neck tendons out as he draws Rey's saber from his belt and slashes both of them – either of them – out of his sight. The silver-turquoise of Rey's blade cuts through the dusty violet night. Neither apparition vanishes – their bodies allow the sword to sift through them, like they're made of _sand_ \- but it does enough to make Ben kick the speeder to full speed.

Whatever hard-edged concentration Ben earned from Kaidos's orbit, it's shot and spent. He's still dizzy at the plain, awaiting look in Rey's eyes.

His hands shake, causing his maneuvers to be jerky. Focus. Find the boy. Find that signature, small and pure, like candlelight in a fog. He cuts across the ground for a few kilometers now…

…Except a small shape on the ground rises just as he comes.

It's thick and malicious, brutal. The Force-signature is mixed with blood and midnight cold. The shape is well-built, adult-sized.

Ben's eyes narrow at the scent. It's Xolon. It's Xolon Ren, he knows _it_.

His hackles rise. He accelerates, imagining he will crush the monster. _Mine!_

Even on a powerful planet like this, where even Xolon's mediocre grasp of the Force can feed from the Dark Energy, Ben knows his powers are overwhelmingly immense and superlative. He has that on his side. He concentrates on Xolon's shape, imagining each foot on the ground becoming too heavy at once. Ben has trapped them in his own net, cast so that even the air is a barrier.

He charges, ever closer, a sword flying across the ground. Brandishing Rey's saber, he imagines with premature excitement that he will impale Xolon's body and watch the Ren Knight's cool energy burst into nothing like a dying star.

But then as he comes closer, all at once, it becomes –

A rough, cool hand spread across his burning cheek. Familiar brown eyes cast in shock, betrayal, and a final, painful call of love and regret. The roiling conflict in his body, the unstoppable words tumbling down a mountain out of Ben's own traitorous lips, " _thank you_ " -

His father – his _father_ –

It's as if the moment on Starkiller Base happens right now, a slap echoing into the present. Braking the bike comes as a hair's-breadth urge. He wipes out so badly that the hoverbike tumbles out and away from him.

Gasping, blinking away at the sky, Ben struggles to think: The planet must have done this. Xolon – he has no capabilities to throw out such a vision, something so personal and carefully locked inside of Ben's soul.

He's already losing his cool – he's _losing_.

He has grossly underestimated his ability to walk through this planet's Dark Energy. It breathes like a gigantic living thing. Ben and his newfound approach to the Light is seen as a virus, and Kaidos is throwing its defenses at him.

But when his back aches and head spins, it's difficult to rein in this reason.

He throws himself upright, scattering dust in his dervish-like movements.

 _I see your heart, Kylo Ren,_ something says to him. It rises from deep in the ground. _You are no master here._

Ben could claw at the mockery, and gives in to his temper: "I AM MORE THAN ENOUGH!"

Ahead, a current of something new curls with intensity. The planet bristles at the one human's declaration, the one speck of humanity. It whistles from what feels like a safe distance.

At first glance it looks like a mountain range. But it moves slightly. It's a storm, a powerful windstorm made of dust and sand. It's coming right towards Ben.

No problem. He can deflect it – he'll just create a bubble of space so the storm will move over him. He could even part a way through to keep walking. It's just a storm.

sssssss

A memory tugs from a precious part of Ben's mind, where Rey's voice (a catalogue of swears, laughter, cutting words and softer attempts at conversation), mixes with the sea, snow and the _Falcon_ :

" _There are these great winds that move across Jakku, called the X'hus Ri'ia," she once whispered. They were on that planet where they fought in the open field, a reprieve from the close-knit quarters of the Falcon. She always opened up into something friendlier where there was sunlight and a gentle breeze. "They're spirits of a goddess. She's always in pain, crying her agony across the land."_

In the present, Ben traces the foreign words gently. They belong to her. Everything else he had heard has been harsh. He hopes she will tell more gentle parts of her past to him. He feels privileged to know them.

 _Intrigued at the history of her upbringing, Ben inquired about the storm-goddess: How often did they come? Was she ever in danger?_

 _Rey stared away from him and said it used to come very close to her shelter, and that once she had been stuck in the Graveyard – where she salvaged old, gutted Imperial ships – overnight because it had taken root right above her, roaring an infernal rage until she was sure the old Destroyer would actually be sucked up from the ground._

 _He asked what one was supposed to do if you were facing the storm alone, with no protection. He had always been attracted to facing unimaginable, unsurpassable danger, on the gamble that he could come out of it surviving, or be finally overcome._

 _Rey had shrugged her shoulders. "I mean, you'd probably die. I heard some locals swear they walked through it. I imagine you'd just…hunker down, wait it out. Oh, and definitely cover your face."_

sssssss

Ben looks at the wave of sand churning his way. He has a scarf around his neck. Now he sees how goggles would have been an immense help.

He plants both feet to the ground and centers his being, assesses his weak points and stabilizes his impatience. This is a time-honored struggle; letting calm and concentration become one. He thinks of the abuse and punishment, all archived carefully as figments to his lessons of power and control. Just as he has grown up into manhood, as a beast of a warrior, uncompromising in his beliefs, through blood and pain and misery, Ben stares back at the storm and waits it out.

It blankets the sky and blacks everything out. Ben's Force-shield buckles; his feet skid back from the initial blast of debris. He hears the hoverbike whistle away into the distance.

 _Concentrate,_ he advises. _Don't let it get through you._

But the storm frays at the edges of his shield. Its strength is uncompromising. He buckles down, redistributes his shield's structure.

A few specks of dust shoot through and hit his eye. Right in his damned eye. He holds fast, stomping down his panic before the shield totally disintegrates from the distraction.

 _Hold it out._ The winds are so strong - he'll have to kneel, make himself smaller. He has to forgive his size – if he compacts closer to the ground, the storm will howl over him; there'll be less mass for a shield to concentrate on.

Jets of pride try to lash out at this display of submission, but this storm will not let up. He gives in and bends to the storm. The winds yell in triumph.

 _You are no master here –_

As he kneels, his balance wavers. It costs him his foundation. Threads of shard-like sand weave at his sides and his face.

Ben must recover! He loses so much ground that he's pushed a dozen feet back. One hand draws up the scarf to cover his face, the other held out to hold up his Force-shield. _I am –_ Ben finds it difficult to breathe. _I am one - with the Force_.

The whispers of the Dark Energy melt into the howling from above: _This is not your destiny, Kylo Ren. You have forsaken your true home. You shame us as this hollow shell. Come back – embrace your legacy._

Ben throws out a hostile fist to the ground. _Shut UP._

This display of irritation only makes the sand sail faster, until it begins to cut at the sides of his face.

 _What is it you crave on your new path, foolish boy? Peace? Mercy?_

Another moment, and a heavy, concentrated battering ram of something lodges into Ben's face and chest. It's as if the Dark Energy is retaliating, through mockery. He tumbles away, gasping at thick, dusty air that seeks to poison him.

His arms and fingers burn from digging into the dirt. He must look as pathetic as a fly on the windshield of a speeder. This storm is the thing that will kill him.

A mixture of regret and stark realization twist in Ben's gut. He's having trouble breathing now, and he doesn't want to die here – doesn't _think_ he would have.

And then he feels his brain, the very threads that attune him to the Force, being plucked and strung carelessly. Blazing red crashing down, and blinding last cries of fear, are being pulled out of him.

He's had nightmares of this for far, far longer than the weeks that Rey has been at his side. They've been with him since Jarie. Since other Force-sensitives hunted down by him and Xolon. At a loss for how to process them, for how to catalogue – brand – each kill of his as a sacrifice, he had boxed them away, stored them for as long to face them as possible. They had always been there, but in his teachings, the screams had strengthened him, fueled his self-hate. Since leaving Snoke, they've all augmented, bit by bit, when he least expects it.

But now they are all fighting, clawing to the surface, fighting for answers as to why Ben killed them, why did he kill them, and Ben CANNOT BREATHE -

 _I just want to do one good thing!_ he pleads in his head, thankful he doesn't have to hear himself beg, sob. _One good thing…Forget the rest. I don't care what happens next._ Anything to stop the storm from eroding his body to nothing.

Something warm and gentle radiates from above. Ben shouldn't look up – his head is bent to the ground and his eyes are buried under the scarf. What a time to not have his old mask.

That sensation makes him shiver, his old scars wither at the memories that they were first shed.

Snoke – Snoke used to touch him on the shoulder, or on his head, a shadow of a paternal gesture when he bowed to him. At times it burned his head until his eyes stung, as if Snoke's attempt was to burn out Ben's memories of his family. Other times, it was to fool Ben into a sense of…protection and equality…until Snoke brought him down and broke parts of his body, his flesh and bones. Pain was supposed to make him stronger, gain him respect.

Thick ropes of aching need wrap around his throat. _Go away – you cannot defeat me, you're not even HERE, you shriveled old bat,_ he thinks hotly.

The storm has been cutting through his defenses, narrowing down his shield until his cloak is pulled tightly by the wind, tightening uncomfortably around his neck.

But then, like a flock of birds in a current, the storm freezes in place. It then floats up above, a blanket, each grain of sand a star in the night sky.

Ben is seeing double – his strength at keeping the shield up for so long melts from his tired body. The stinging in his muscles, his back and arms, immediately try to suck in the cool night air. He breathes the air in while he can, in case the storm snaps back to attention.

He hears something distant hiss. A Sithspawn? It's further away. Ben keeps down, throwing out his senses to pick up what the hell is ahead. He's pinned.

The hissing is patient and cavernous, in and out, like breathing.

In a snap, it becomes familiar. It's _Vader's breathing mask._

The cool of the air prickles from a reprieve to a sickening chill. It trails down Ben's spine. The rush of defending himself from the storm unfolds to the fear of being confronted by ghosts.

He's only experienced visions of his grandfather four times in his life. He had been confused, exhilarated, frustrated and dumbstruck each time. He's not even sure if any of those visions were real – he doesn't know what's real anymore – or if they were instrumented by Snoke to seduce him as a child.

He doesn't want it to talk. He has no idea…what to say…

 _Look at me_ , Vader commands.

His scarf suddenly smells metallic. He feels it might smother him. His fear capitalizes; _this is the embodiment you wanted to be. Don't be a coward._

He opens his eyes and centers his body. He senses the distance between him and this Vader-form. He looks up.

The cape – Vader's cape – brushes dangerously near his cheek. Ben tries his best not to flinch, but his shields flutter out of his grip. He's so utterly defenseless.

This man has never looked more real on Ben's life. He's real, right in front of Ben, and he is in awe. This is the master he wished he had – unforgivably strong, tall and filling in the space, eclipsing the view of his worshippers.

 _Can this….if this is the Dark Energy planet,_ he wonders stupidly, _is this manifestation real? Is it a trapped psyche of Vader? Of Anakin Skywalker?_

He blinks dumbly. He must look stupid in his civilian clothes. "Grandfather…?"

 _This is the last of my line. You were so strong. And now…you are but a shadow of the warrior you once were. What is this quest of yours?_

Ben is mystified. Vader is _speaking_ to him.

"I…" He doesn't want to reveal why he's here. But what if he _lies_?

"All this time…" he finds himself whisper instead. It's as if he has no sense of reason. Instead of patiently negotiating with this spirit – his volcanic well of pent-up abuse and neglect come thrumming out of his vocal chords on its own. "Why…why haven't you spoken to me?"

A beat. As if Vader cannot believe such a stupid, needy question has been asked at his feet. His cavernous voice rumbles in severe displeasure. _Your selfishness and impatience were never forged out of you. A lifetime of immersion in the Dark Side, yet you still cling to petty desires of admiration…of compassion. No wonder the Light still holds sway over you._

 _And now you come looking to redeem yourself,_ Vader admonishes. _There is no redemption to be found here. Your broken path will find no balance. Your mission is lost. Abandon it before you lose yourself._

Ben is…completely astonished. The words this great warrior speaks…they speak through him, down to his torn, broken soul. His resolve catches. He feels faint. How does he know so much?

Something glows crimson, creating an unearthly halo around the right hand of the Old Empire. It makes Ben blink, and the spell is broken. Ben thinks back to when Rey told him about the truth behind Darth Vader: he had been nothing but a slave. A slave. And –

"He never felt good at commanding people," she told him. Then: "He was so afraid of Padme dying…they loved each other."

This deity…is a shell. Just like him, once. He looks further into the flared, hollow-eyed mask, along the thick chest and torso, wondering what lay underneath. Where was the soul of the slave boy, the man who loved a woman? What color were his eyes? Did Ben look anything like him?

Pressure in Ben's body tightens. His bones freeze. He's taken by such surprise that he almost chokes on his tongue. From a split-second glance, he notices Vader's hand clench slightly; his signature move to inflict on his inferiors.

That's when his vision clouds and then sharpens into something, somewhere else. _Swathed in flickering movement and images, Ben feels himself become free. Utterly, unapologetically free from anything that's held him back._

 _There's no more fighting: it's over. The galaxy's been claimed once and for all._

 _Everyone…everyone he's ever had to try and prove his worth, by words or bended knee, no longer doubt him. They surrender to him. No more whispers of doubt, no more clouded destinies._

 _He stands as a man who knows who he is and what he can do. In that, he is more powerful than ever._

 _Return to your destiny, Kylo Ren,_ Vader's command rumbles. He even…holds out his hand. He is offering this to Ben _._ As if he _knows_ how much it takes to rise up and claim the mantle of self-worth. _Embrace your family's legacy._

Ben looks down and is momentarily speechless at the curve of the silver rimlight against the offered hand. He can barely believe it. Never in his imaginings did Vader attempt to touch him.

He thinks that this hand will offer him a rapturous blessing. It's too much to comprehend. He wants to touch that hand (even if it is a glove) and feel like a bond between the generation has finally been sealed. It's all he's ever wanted. It's what Snoke had promised him, for more than twenty years. A gaping maw of a hole in his being will finally be at rest. His soul will settle into contentment.

But the memories of him pathetically praying to a deranged, melted down mask, to Snoke's lies….to the break of Light, and knowing it has always been there, patiently waiting for him to come home; and Rey's fond description of the _man_ who laid underneath, Anakin ("He says you're more like your grandmother.") – all of those things shine through.

The things Luke _finally_ relented and admitted about him, once Ben had learned the truth as a teenager: "I felt like I was staring into death itself. I couldn't…the pain I felt in my body when he said he was my father, after all this time I associated so much catalogued hostility and grief…Vader ruined us. He ruined the Skywalker name. We could have been more than…two twin kids trying to put the universe back together. He could have been so much more to us."

This… other man, this black god, is a monster. He puts all the transgressions together in a summary: he killed his wife. He tried to kill Luke. He tortured his own daughter.

Ben's _mother_. Oh, yes – he learned about that.

His _mother_ -

Struck at the clarification, Ben shuffles up, quick shivering movements as his body throbs with exhaustion from the Force-shield.

"My family's legacy…." He hesitates, sputtering out his righteous confidence. " - Has been to…erase you out of existence. _You ruined me_ ," he accuses. All the defeated years, years of pathetic supplication, rise up in his pained tone. He thinks of his secret desires as a child, to know who Vader was – to know why his family feared even his name. He thinks of how he ventured to the foothills of the Dark Side, mistaking it as self-discovery of the Skywalker legacy, through the Force; how he no longer wants to be a monster. All in a blink's worth of consideration.

It is the truest thing he has come close to admitting out loud. It feels like rearing up high and above, but at the same time exposing his weakest parts. "You're nothing but a shell. A demon in armor…. I'm done with you."

Even as Ben says these words, he knows with a severe tightness that they will cost him, dearly. It doesn't take long for the consequence to appear.

Vader's presence climbs higher until Ben's head snaps back up. _Fool! Self-righteous Jedi adulation…._

The rest of the condemnations roar for miles, up to the stars. The molten glow from far away grows close and hot.

 _No_ , Ben realizes, mind rushing to catch up from what had just appeared and disappeared right in front of him. Vader is fading, fading into the sky, expanding like a gossamer shadow-blanket. Ben shuts his eyes and tries to steady himself from the assault of smothering, bleeding light. It takes over the sky.

Oh.

It all glows red…red like Starkiller's beams.

This is what it must have looked like, on the receiving end of that superweapon. To stare at that bolstering, scarlet blast and know that incinerating death is descending on you like an avalanche.

The glow transcends the hundreds of thousands of miles and finds him, zeroing in on his chest. Arrested at the agony, Ben's body becomes rigid – as if it's trying to withstand this abusive wave, when he can barely scream it away.

Everything is white-hot. He thought he knew punishment, under Snoke, under his own guilt. Everything he thinks he's known is blasted away.

And the screams he _does_ hear – they're not his. He does not deserve to voice his impending doom, for he had taken it away from others; hundreds, thousands of others:

" _How could you do this, Ben?!"_

" _Mom!"_

" _Please don't!"_

" _It's okay, we're gonna be okay!"_

Ben is so overcome with searing pain in his veins, in his heart, that he barely distinguishes the faceless shadows around him. There are so many of them that they become a fog over the barren land.

These are the reminders of those he has killed; killed outright in his hunt for Jedi, or effects of his reign in the First Order. They are here to take their vengeance. They will tear him apart.

 _I'm sorry_ , he believes. He tries. _I'm sorry. Forgive me – FORGIVE ME. I WAS WRONG._

To think he was going to off himself with a flimsy, rusted blade more than a month ago. Not when he had a punishment the likes of this waiting for him…

" _I love you!"_

" _I'm so scared, I don't want to die – "_

" _You will never – never beat us!"_

" _Monster! You monster!"_

 _And Han Solo, always Han Solo's...the most questionable, the one that was supposed to cleanse him of guilt once and for all…the one that only strengthened it. "My son…my son…"_

 _My son. He_ thought _these words as life left him. Even with Ben's betrayal, Kylo's mark deep in his chest._

 _Take it_ , Ben begs. He thinks he can rip out his own heart with his bare fingernails – because he is wrong and doesn't deserve to live. _Go ahead. Take my life. Take it._

 _Coward_ , some dark voice admonishes nastily. _You wish to placate your victims to be free of this pain?_

 _No_ , he admits, sobbing. _Because I have nothing else to give._

This must be it – this must be his destiny. This must be why Rey left, to spur him on some misshapen quest for penance. Maybe she's not even here.

The agony of his emotions make almost everything in his life incinerates. He wonders – the leftover part of his conscious – if his mother knows what is happening. He wishes she were here, to know he is becoming undone, finally. She should know that her fallen, murderous, stupid son is finally getting what he deserves.


	49. Chapter 49

The Call to the Light

Chapter 49

By TheOneAndOnlySlayer

ssssss

When Ben wakes up…and that's it: he wakes up. He wakes up, which is just unbelievable.

He's alive. Alive. He knows this, delicately, in pieces. He breathes for the first time, grimacing over a bone-dry throat. If it's at all possible, he tries to sink under the ground and bury himself into the final sleep. He's afraid to live, for all that he may encounter another thrashing like that again.

He's been dragged through hell; sheer abuse down to his soul. It completely surpasses everything – everything – he's endured in the past twenty years. He can't even believe his eyes haven't melted, dribbled out of their sockets. And after all that, the Dark Forces – whoever they are on this planet – decide he's _good to go._ Or maybe he's slipped from hallucinating to a pure plane of dreaming.

He's close to betting he's still conscious on Kaidos because of how disheveled he feels. Sand plasters onto his face and front where he must have face-planted; his right eye itches nastily from the specks digging from under his eyelids. The sky isn't bleeding red anymore, and it's clear again. The storm must be gone.

More strange than any of this is how his body doesn't feel hurt anymore. Aside from the embarrassing wipeout from the hoverbike, everything's intact. It's a jarring experience. He's woken up immediately assaulted by leftover injuries before. _This_ is an awkward echo, a void.

No time to question why.

 _Get up. Get up, you idiot. You must get up. You have to._

And eventually, he does, in pieces: his arms wobble from the sting of that–that hallucination. It all hurts, but it's all in his head. He's not sure – he's not sure what to do, how to keep going.

 _Get up, Ben_ – he tells himself. He imagines he is soothing himself, and the thought is depressing to hell that he shudders uncontrollably.

 _It's all right. You're still alive._

The first time Snoke beat him – _really_ inflicted pain, all for his training – Ben was still reeling from the horror of leaving the massacre at the Jedi Temple. That first time was the worst. He had retreated to his room for meditation and recovery. He expected to be immensely relieved that the torture had stopped – but instead he just felt betrayed by his new master's act of discipline.

He knows now, how all of it was wrong, wrong, wrong: how he should have just left; ow he _could_ have, and not been afraid of getting caught by the First Order; how…how even getting killed shouldn't have deterred him from escaping Snoke's rein.

He must calm - calm and feel at peace. Let all of these transgressions sail away. It's only him. There is only one good thing for him to do. Rey is in danger and needs him. It's the one good thing he can do to settle his soul.

He reassesses his gear and is relieved to know his commlink is still working. The hoverbike, though, has vanished. The outcropping lies ahead and Ben will have to reach it on foot.

Forget Xolon. He has no time and he can barely protect himself. This planet will eat him alive. He must keep moving or fall prey to this planet's nightmare traps. As stubborn as he is, he must admit his resolve is wavering, and he fears losing himself, now.

Trust in the Force. He is stronger than any of these agencies if only he could focus. He must realize that.

And not just that: but to have hope. To keep it close to his heart may yet stay his course. As long as he has hope – as long as he can keep the vipers and the chains of this planet's energy at bay – he'll save her.

Then he will fucking _murder_ her for proving to be such a nuisance in his miserable life.

Ssssssssss

Another hour has passed. Ben's jogged forever and he's just about reached the beginnings of a slope, the ground hardening underneath him.

His feet stop and his eyes blink, heavily, as he grasps the shape in front of him – and the smell, too. This massive lump of a thing is not a boulder or a bush – it's a Sithspawn. It's been killed. He finds several lacerations and puncture wounds, and in the face, there are nasty, violent, brutal gashes. The cauterization marks suggest a lightsaber was the weapon.

What could have done this? Could Xolon or a Darksider got in the way?

At his hip, the commlink crackles. " _Your signal's getting spotty_ ," Finn points out sharply.

Cautious, though unsurprised, Ben looks around. "I'm thirty kilometers from the _Falcon_ , northwest thirty degrees."

Finn sighs out a curse. " _Can't hear you – say again your - "_ and then nothing. The signal is gone.

What sort of interference is Ben next to? He surmises the Sithspawn monster corpse and the rocky terrain more carefully. He could be standing anywhere between a Sith Lord's graveyard and a holocron gone haywire.

He considers Force-speaking to Finn, but wonders if it'll confuse the non-Force-Sensitive into thinking it's a trick from the Dark Energy. There's no point, not until Ben needs him for a quick extraction.

Something pulls at his internal debate: there is a fluttering in the soft breeze, a reprieve from the terrible stillness.

He is almost taken aback by the strength, of warmth and brightness…It's the _Light_. It rings so true and clear that it cuts through the fog of the Dark around him.

 _How_ can the Light project so strongly here? What, or _who_ -

Something gaping and terrible seems to possess Ben. He stares up the hill, feeling his stomach sink to his feet. He shouldn't feel so worried. So afraid of…what's hiding up there.

And then he hears a soft sound, muddled and struggling: an echo from the dead.

It sounds _feminine_.

Blinking owlishly, Ben takes two quivering steps forward. He snaps into sharper action, chastising his childish emotions, and bolts up the hill. He follows the siren's call without question into the beginnings of a shallow canyon. Thoughts chase into his heart before he has time to banish them: _Something is not good, someone's in there – she's alone –_ _something is_ wrong!

Just as he wedges through, darkness encompasses him. The echoes vanish, leaving only silence. Only a shard of rimlight cuts through. Cursing through clenched teeth, he has to duck and contort his large frame into the gap. His shape is the wrong sort for this sort of habitat, but –

Something soft and small almost makes him trip. Death lies here. Unlike the blatant, unplanned corpse outside, this one is quiet, almost peaceful; a pocket of private space to mourn itself.

On the ground, nudged carefully to the side, is a left-behind humanoid. There's no metallic tang of spilt blood in the air. Death hasn't hollowed and stretched like cobwebs – it's very, very recent. Youth still resonates, in the way that moonlight can be mistaken for the sun.

Ben can only stare down. The barest of shadows suggest a slight profile, but it's too dark to see.

 _No. No, it's not her._ These words spin decisively through him, determined to believe it. He burns in rationale, fueling this moment to not be her. This is not Rey.

But he cannot deny the way the Light filters thickly around the body. It's small and faint, but defiant all the more. The Light cocoons her, faithfully. It must know it shines in enemy territory, as if it knows it has no place to survive here, but it burns all the brighter, warding all forms of evil that would seek to desecrate her –

Or, like a signal. Waiting for Ben...

He must find out.

Denial congeals his throat to keep from speaking. Carefully, as Ben kneels to the body, he hastily stiches reasons together that this is another survivor of the wreckage. It must be. His hands… he's hated touching people. Their thoughts always screamed at him unconsciously – hence the gloves. He doesn't want to touch this dead stranger. But he must find out.

His outstretched hand shakes. The Light, sensing his agitation, placates him. Tendrils of warmth lull him into a soft, sedate haze. He takes it without thinking because he is afraid. It can't be her.

The first thing his knuckles brush against…is a bare leg. Supple, padded with some muscle, _cold_ …and prickly with hair that would normally be shaved. She's barefoot. As he ventures blindly, his hands don't find cloth until her – her thighs.

In the Force-vision in the medbay, Rey was clad in scant rags.

His breath is shaking. His hand balls into a grim fist before reaching out again. When he traces arms, they're bare; equally strong biceps. Chilled by death.

Hair…dirty, but silken. Hair he's touched before. A soft jawline…

 _STOP._

Lightning-fast, he withdraws his hand, stomach lurching. Ben chomps his mouth closed to draw back a hollow whimper wrapped in bile.

He must…he can't…!

The cavern is no longer just irritable; the small space will smother each uneven breath he takes – inhaling the death in front of him, forcing him to physically know this proof. Heart thundering ominously in his chest (almost blaring an alarm for him to stop, to walk away, to _leave_ ), Ben gathers courage to lift the body and drag it – _her_ – to the shard of light nearby.

He feels like he could pass out just by arranging the upright part of her body. It's a mixed series of transmission signals into his brain, flat with autopilot movements, and short-circuiting white spots of fear. Part of him already seems to agree that this is _her_ body, this is her body…! Of course he would find her, there was no doubt….

The moment he angles the neck, the soft neck, her face to the light pouring from the sky, it all cements together:

It's her face – it IS her face –

 _No! NO!_

Her skin, so sunkissed, now pale as ivory - so pale that the shadow of her eyelids are smoky - her brows, and her eyelashes…had he known they were so long? –

He jolts away, so much so that – that _Rey_ – begins to slide back to the ground –

"Ughh - !" this is not right, this is – this is not happening –

Her name catches with a shudder in his throat. "Rey! _Rey_ , sweetheart - " She's not dead, not here, not in this place. His voice wobbles pathetically. "Rey – Rey, _please_. Op-open your eyes, come on. Please. Rey…!?"

Frantic in his anger, he gropes in the dark for a pulse: nothing on her neck; no pinprick of movement in her face as his uncomfortably large hands cradle her jaw. Her wrists – the blood is very still under her skin. No blood flowing through her veins, no bubbling dance and music of a Force signature that she is here, she is nearby, next to him, alive.

 _Rey_?

He has to turn away to cough – to sob. It's too many sensory flashes, shuffling into him, to bear. Everything needs to slow down. He has to look further. He must know.

How did she…how is she like _this_!? Think. How…

" _Rey_ …" He suddenly feels like a freak looming over, struggling with how to paw her body. He doesn't want to know. He's terrified.

Through tears and bludgeoning dismay, Ben fights. He fights for the clarity of his mind and his breaking, crumbling heart. The Light – her, her Light – cradles him still.

He calls to the Force, sucking it in where it teems around him, and lays a hand over her heart.

It's her abdomen that's wrong. It's a flood, a mess of organs and blood.

Oh…

Internal bleeding. The crash.

Ben _plunges_ into the echoes of her memories. He takes it all in, white-hot and near-mad with determination, desperate to see her last moments of life…

 _A flurry of movement. She ran…the dragging of feet across the ground…others are with her._

 _Outside, the Sithspawn…it followed them, under the ground…fresh meat, innocent prey after so long…_

 _Rey must have fought it back; at first with a saber (in the cramped, forgotten part of his mind where his sanity is left, he wonders where she got the saber). And then, when it proved too much, she wrought the Force around her and crushed its heart._

 _The overwhelming odds of survival had been stacked against them since the crash. There was nowhere to go. But the fight in her…it never left, it was just waiting…_

 _And she didn't even care that she was already dying._

"No…." he declares in the dark, to no one but her. Even in death. "No, you're not…" his face begins to peel back into a pleading, beseeching expression. "You're _not_!"

The outline of her face becomes blurry as his eyes let the tears finally rush out. His heart, the air in his lungs – all that makes _him_ alive – seem to flow out uncontrollably, gushing forward in an attempt to supply her with life, to make her alive. Anything, anything –

 _How could she? Is this really happening?_ he asks himself, fragile again and afraid like a child. Afraid of the monsters that will always win. Devastated at how she didn't even think about him, at all – just the pathetic scraps of survivors cowering behind her.

In this pitiful mausoleum that shelters her, Ben shakingly extricates himself from her and – _no, no, this isn't happening…wait,_ _BREATHE_ –

Cool open air whacks him just as he unleashes the contents of his stomach. He throws up everything he thinks is left in his body. Bracing his arms on the rock, he greets the stench below him with his eyes closed, already stinging in self-admonishment, hair curtaining his raw, lava-hot grief.

 _Oh, Rey. Oh, Rey….._

 _She can't - She CAN'T be dead. I would have known - I would have felt it!_

He can't go back in there. Even if her haunted voice were to call out to him – he couldn't. It would be too much. He can't take this.

She's back inside there. Slumped in the dirt. Her body broken inside. He thinks, as naiveté clings to his reasoning that maybe it's not true – either she's not there, or she'll come out of here, on her own, and touch his shoulder. "Ben?" she would say, in that soft dulcet tone of hers.

Ben.

It was such a quick flash of light, even though he knows he saw enough. Sensibly – if he were at all sensible, he would have dragged her out in the rimlight, to see the whole of her, the evidence he needs…but he can't…. one glance at her forehead, the crown of her hair, and the delicate shape of her eyelid. He knew.

The stars look down at his defeat. _I…I was supposed to save her._ He shakes, constricting the insides in his body to withhold another wave of nausea. Pathetic, vomiting in the dirt. Always too late, never enough.

Resentment rears again, knowing the call to action, to self-destruct, to lay waste to whatever's guilty enough to lie near. It's an effect of his unfortunate birth, being sired by two unforgiveably headstrong, hot-headed parents. Anguish coming from a deep place inside of him, a place he hadn't even known existed for a monster like him, spreads to take him apart. He knows rage better, knows how to channel it. He's a gasket about to blow – for once, for feelings as strong as these, he tries to hold it in… _she_ wouldn't want him to…

But then, there lies the Sithspawn.

Its hideous corpse lies beyond the curtain of his hair, strewn across his eyes - a mercy to protect his most vulnerable desire to not be seen in his defeat. It doesn't matter if it's dead, ravaged. It's proof of Rey's…death. It made her die. It still lies, a hundred feet away from her. It's an abusing deformity that cannot be here.

Rage feeds him to lash out, to punish, to exorcise this terrible storm.

With a howl that could tear his lungs, he lets it all out – it's so easy, this desire, to bring everything down, down, until nothing can stop him – NOTHING can harm him.

Something stays his hand. The Light had been patient, understanding in letting him stumble away. Now, it does not let him lose control, not even at a corpse.

ssssss

An old memory rises from the ashes of his old life: when he was five, he was kidnapped by Imperial radicals. They were old, lost disciples of Palpatine who deliriously imagined Ben was the remaining scion of their hope for a renewed Empire. Scared out of his mind, untrained and wild in his emotional attachment to the Force, Ben had Force-knocked them all clean off their feet before Luke and Han – his _father_ – commandeered the ship to rescue him.

He wanted blood. Ben Solo remembered wanting to tear them apart, to see them _die_. Those unconscious bodies his family tried to shield him from didn't deserve to be there, on the ground, softly.

Ben was huddled in his father's crumpled embrace while Luke faced him, calming him. Luke recognized the instinct of a wounded animal to lash out at any moving thing, and reached out to calm his nephew. "It's over, Ben," he said, strong even in such a weakened admittance. "Don't give them the violence they crave. Let them fall away from you. Let all this be swept away. You owe this moment _nothing_."

Behind and above, Han – his father – held little Ben to his chest, limp as any crippled parent in defeat, his tears betraying his bleeding fear and sorrow. It made the rage in Ben's chest break apart. It made Ben wave away the fever in his mind, made his sensitive heart reach out and bury into his father's embrace.

sssss

Suspended in his own time-blown projection, Ben grapples for some sort of judgment. The most powerful Force warrior in a generation lays dead in a cave – the woman who embodies Light itself. The stars should be miscarrying in their loss. The sky should be _on fire_.

Instead, the tendrils of the Light gently, firmly, wrap around him. This is not what you need, it seems to say. The soothing makes it worse. This quiet softness is too empty when his entire being feels like it's shattering.

Ben's messy eyes return to the corpse. _What's the point, anyway._

He's tired of fighting, all of a sudden; exhausted. There's no place to go. The stench of his vomit and the monstrous corpse, though, make him turn away and face the cave.

She's in there.

Alone.

In an instant, he cannot be away from her. This place – monsters could crawl up from through the rocks and take her.

The agony that crescendoed into rage at the Sithspawn now cools into something else. It melts through his warlike body and brings a calm that he thinks he should fight back. But then: he remembers – all of it, a desperate reel of all the moments she gave him, all those looks and touches that could have meant nothing, but meant so much. The times she reached out to him: frostily, defiantly, as he stood bound in an abandoned castle by the sea; whispers revealing a need for acceptance over a campfire; under the water; foreheads touching to call him back to her, while a heap of dead vermin lay at their feet…all swirl in his vision to heal the loss he cannot process.

The need to see her is so strong. He's found her, at last.

He gets up, shivering, walks back into the cavern, and sits next to her in a boneless heap.

He thinks he will cower again at having to touch her. Cold, dead. But she is so…so lonely. She looks asleep; uncomfortably vulnerable in her thin, scant clothes.

There were so many different scenarios he thought he could imagine at finding her. Half of them involved her flashing her ridiculous smile, making some joke. Maybe even twisting her features into irritation at him for no reason at all. Perhaps she could have kissed him. He should have kissed her more.

A thousand regrets trickle through: he hadn't been kind to her enough. They could barely be civil in the beginning without resorting to barbs. It was the only thing they knew. And they needed each other. Billions of life-forms in the galaxy, in the universe, and all they had to navigate through this mess of destiny in their lives was each other. And already at opposite ends of the string.

He wishes…he wishes he held her more – comforted her. He could have been more than he was – become what she had desired, even if she claimed it was by accident.

 _Oh, sweetheart…_

She really isn't moving. She's really dead.

 _Pretend…! pretend she's asleep. Pretend she's unconscious. It's all okay. You've got her._

The entire time, his mouth had been slammed shut – afraid to make any pathetic, mewling noises. The moment he is able to tuck her soft head under his own, cradle it with his neck and shoulder, the damn bursts. It's disgusting, he can hear his moaning little sobs echo in the cavern.

 _I tried! I don't understand. I tried….why would you die!? Why would you be left alone here?! You're not supposed to be dead! You weren't supposed to leave me! Why did you go! You…selfish wench!_

The Light trembles from his selfish, vindictive thoughts. He is helpless and he wants to drown in the Light. Let it take him. Let it wrap him and hold him tight until he can pass out into some ether – where maybe she lies in afterlife. Anything. Let him lie with her forever.

His grip on her is firm, promising. He's finally pulled her to his lap, one arm supporting her back, hair strewn against his neck and shoulder. Her marble-cold, lifeless limbs make Ben shudder in grotesque despair. This is not how he wanted to touch her. But he's too disconsolate that he doesn't care; he thrusts his broken mind into a new reality. In fact, when his nose brushes coldly against his cheek, he pretends she's chilly and he's come to keep her warm.

ssssssss

He sits there with her, moaning choked declarations of regret, until her cold seeps into him, and longer until the fever in him seems to settle in her skin. Almost angrily, he conjures memories of the times he's touched her – that time she laid beneath him so he could try Force-healing her – just to stave off the discomfort. What a gift, an awakening it had been. When they touched, he felt he had come back to life, after being hardened, beaten and adrift in his isolation for so long.

Rey has been so, so _bright_ in life – pure radiance. She smiled and laughed even in her thoughts. She burned unlike the madness and bloodlust of the Sith – like a real star he could circle and prod and confront. What a fool he had been, having known since childhood that all stars have their way of drawing foreign objects into their hypnotic orbit.

Even as Ben knows she is gone, when her limbs drag haphazardly, when her cheek, forehead and lips begin to turn eerily like papyrus and stone, the soft, innocent sweetness in her features renders him confused in his grief. He finds himself whispering into her hair, streaked wet by his tears, of nonsensical things; mostly that he's sorry and that he missed her before they die in his throat, quashed by guilt.

He wonders, after a time in his sunken stupor, how he's going to tell the others. He'd rather rot here. It's not even about fearing their blame and punishment. It's flitted in his mind once or twice before he hurriedly waves them away; no matter how bereft he feels, each breath he takes meaning less and less, he has to comm Finn and the _Falcon_. It's over.

It's over.

His life, his new life with her, was barely more than a month. This woman, who had eclipsed his ambitions and his master of twenty years, had eluded him so often that his heart had raced when they crossed paths. He can't deny that now.

He feels lost at the idea of returning to the Falcon, to Finn, the _Boshtar_ , the Resistance. He's had no true allegiance to them – all that mattered was the reality of Snoke's oppression, in everything, and how the drumming in Ben's blood signaled to him that he had the power to make it stop.

The First Order's rhetoric about cleansing the galaxy of its small, collective disorders still held true. Ben had clung to these beliefs for years, after seeing his mother's world of putting policies on backburners in favor of reelection, of control. Deals made behind the curtain, backs stabbed, while proclamations of liberty justice rang blindly. Poe and others like him were blind fools: chaos and greed, that's all it was, no matter what side.

In all this, Rey stayed with them. Loyalty had taken hold of her within an _hour_ of meeting Finn, stupid girl. The very opposite, of course, of how Ben's first meeting affected her. Ben had later tormented her, telling her she was so desperate for a home, she'd take one in a crowded barracks that would get bombed out or fled. It was no life for her, not one she deserved. Like a weed, though, she stubbornly proved him wrong, always.

It was _her_ cause. He, after losing all the life in his own (twenty years' worth, all filtered out like smoke), had nowhere else to go. He's more helpless and alone now because she's not in it.

She's gone. She's left him alone.

His hold on Rey's body tightens. He doesn't know what to do.

He thinks he has cried all the tears left in his body. They spring up again as fresh, just more painful. He chokes back, unable to crawl out of this pathetic pit of despair, moans of "Why, why Rey, _why_ couldn't you _stay_ …"

sssss

"So."

The Light's pulse _spikes_ at the rumble in that word. Ben's wept so much that he can't breathe through his nose. There's no life-force near him, so he thinks he's misheard.

"You just missed her."

Ben feels his mind, his skin, turn to ice. The Dark presence must have slithered its way from the bowels of the cave. The Light has encased Ben and Rey, straining especially under his fever-sick grief. It would have been a matter of time before something – someone – came to discover them.

He had almost drifted into some semblance of peace, dammit. The rock wall stabs into his aching back as he presses against it with a snarl.

The ghost continues with refined boredom. "She fought quite well. She never knew how strong she was."

Ben will not grace this spirit with so much as a look beyond its feet. The voice is deep, rumbling, yet still clipped like a gentleman.

The specter of Xolon Ren stands above Ben as if they are friends. "What's the matter? You're so…wounded."

If there's any more animation left in his stiff body, Ben bristles. He thinks his body will settle into rigor mortis, as well. The curiosity laced in the other knight's voice, though, is so genuine that it _must_ be mocking, and Ben will not stand for it.

"You killed the woman I love," he swears. "For that, you will suffer."

"You seem to be suffering more than I."

"That's a lie," Ben retorts carefully. He knows how Xolon attempts to bait Ben's temper – it's a trait Ben's used himself on Hux often. Xolon couldn't possibly project his own image against another Force-user so well – not on any normal planet.

Confidence bubbles underneath him at a low simmer. "The Dark Energy on this planet must be sustaining you. To be - projecting such a strong specter while wounded, and…" for a moment, Ben's rasped voice fails him. His breath almost _hitched_. He swallows moisture in his throat, ignoring how wet and flushed his face looks under his hair, and reclaims his composure. "…Especially with your lackluster grip of the Force. Where are you?"

Xolon does not rise to the bait. All Ben hears is the turn of his imaginary boot in the dirt. "Not far. You'll find me in a day's time. If you were to leave her be and return to your ship, I'll be there waiting – "

Agitation rips through him in a thunderous snarl. "You - !" Ben spits out, spine hard and sharp at the challenge. As if he'd _abandon_ Rey's body to this pathetic hole, to be left as carrion. Emotionally overcome, he halts his tongue.

Xolon regards Ben, a black, indistinguishable profile. "You're very tame here, in the Light's embrace. How sweet. Romantic."

Ben continues to draw down breath, as quietly as he can to appear unaffected. This man, while he speaks, while he stands here as a _shape_ , poisons this last moment he has with this woman, his girl. He shifts her face towards his shoulder, as if to protect her perfect face from his stare.

But damn Xolon if he thinks he can get the last word in. His eyes burn as he imagines, in the shadows, that he is staring right up at him. "You're going to die, Xolon Ren."

"Come and face me, then. Prove to me that your call to the Light has been worth it."

And here – and here, with his back against the wall, swollen and softened from loss, does Ben decide that the Light will protect him, must side with him. Years of needing to prove himself, to set his place in the stars, make Ben want to sit up, claim himself back from such misery, and fight with a purpose again. The challenge in Xolon's taunt makes him think that he can douse the space with its blinding, dazzling aura and claw at Xolon's stupid apparition. Force, does he want to fight.

 _I won't leave her. I won't let him get the better of me._

No, but this is exactly what he needs! Snoke is out of his grasp. _This_ , though – this will satisfy –

A shot from outside, distant, brushes in the air. Ben's ears perk. This planet is so deathly still that Ben could not have imagined it.

As if to confirm, three more frantic shots go off.

It's not the _Falcon_ 's cannons. Pressure as faint as an insect's presence in the air pulls at Ben's attention. It's coming from the direction he was heading in, before. Who could that - ?

Ahh, wait. The survivors.

The survivors who left Rey. The boy. The Force-sensitive boy who reached out to him, blindly, loudly, while Rey held him and kissed his head.

 _Let them rot!_ His vindictive mind clamors. How dare they leave her like she's trash.

But… oh, and he feels exhausted even considering what other choice he should take.

Rey's weight on his lap and shoulder remind him of why, _why_ she left – why she gave him a hurried, impassioned explanation that she had to go. Because there were others, like her, like him.

That boy could be one of them now. A few untrained, helpless Force-users on a planet that could drown them in the Dark's conscious; apparently what Xolon wanted.

Rey…she died for them. She gave them something that, as jealous and possessive Ben is, he must acknowledge that Rey had equally given him: a chance to hold the Force in balance, to walk their own paths, free of oppression.

It is a purpose that calls to him now.

When Ben inhales though his blocked nose, he imagines he will catch the sunlight-sweat-metal grease scent that he knows is in Rey's hair. It's not. This woman…is gone. He must acknowledge that. He must get up again. He must leave this place with one good thing.

"No." he decides out loud. He faces Xolon's voice. "I will make you wait."

He gets his legs out from under him – they prick with feeling again – and he hoists Rey's body into a more comfortable grip. This is the height of his stubbornness: walking and crouching through an unfamiliar cavern, being the giant that he is, carrying a body of an adult woman. She would shake her head and call him an idiot in six languages for burdening himself unnecessarily.

 _I could have given you the galaxy, I think, if you let me._

The way out toward the others lies ahead. He gives Xolon his dismissal by walking straight though his dissolving apparition.


	50. Chapter 50

The Call to the Light

Chapter 50

By TheOneAndOnlySlayer

ssssss

 _Not much further._

The commlink's signal still hasn't returned, and the cavern seems to go on forever. Rimlight pours through, illuminating the way as Ben trudges on with Rey's body in his arms. Said arms are beginning to protest. In an effort to keep her…her lolling _head_ from scraping against the rock walls, Ben's adjusted her so that his elbows jut out and get the brunt of the irritation.

On occasion, his weeping returns, threatening to make him buckle to the ground. But he stops, takes a shuddering breath, calms down, and thinks ahead.

The hybrid boy can barely be sensed. Ben knows when a Force-signature tries to conceal itself from other Force-users, and this one is unreasonably good. He thinks of himself as a child, his powers sprouting in such different directions and leaving consequences: exploding glassware, windstorms in his bedroom when he slept…that time he knocked his father down by accident.

 _Stop hiding from me and show me where you are_ , Ben growls in his head. _Stop cowering and come find me!_

Ahead, they're so close to a wider opening. Something scrapes against the rock. Ben feels himself wedge in between, again –

"Umgf!" he grunts. Fuck. Fuck, fuck.

"Come on," he growls. It's Rey's hand, again. It keeps slacking away from its snug position, across her lap and against Ben's stomach, keeping it pinned in there…ugh, she's not supposed to be this heavy, kriffsake.

Finally he has to put her down, if he wants to get out. This is beyond ridiculous. _He's_ beyond ridiculous. A waste of time, carrying her…for what? To bury her, in some wild and flower-adorned field? As proof to her stupid, stubborn friends that he didn't leave her here?

What a stupid, desperate _ass_ he is. She's the one who got him into this mess.

All at once his shame and anger fills him to the brim of his skin. He stands up and literally stomps away, shaking out his tingling arms. When he turns back, Rey is still, unforgivably, dead.

"You stupid…." he spits through his uneven teeth, staring down at her serene, sleeplike face. "The kriff…the _kriff_ were you thinking?!"

Stupid, stupid girl. He could….he could –

 _She's dead, you lunatic!_ This time, he does not weep. The conclusion comes to him like a natural fact, one he does not answer with hot, chaotic denial, or a chasm of despair. It's as cold as the air that he breathes. She's dead. And he feels…defenseless. Surrendered.

That makes him winded.

 _Come on_ , he seems to project to her face. As if she's listening.

When they do squeeze through the cavern's narrow gap, open air welcomes him. Ben greedily inhales it and blinks at the sky. Rey's skin glows so luminously in the rimlight that Ben has to crane his neck to look away.

He's greeted with a clearing, and a blown-away scent of animals, blasterfire, and cauterized flesh. Something violent and strong happened here.

 _Boy, where are you?_ Ben calls aloud.

"They're close, you know."

Ben turns and faces someone, expecting another Dark apparition to haunt the shit out of him. He's ready to snarl, ready to wipe it away with Rey's saber when he stills.

There is something off about this presence. It's not Dark. It would have been jarring as running a hand over broken glass. It's not exactly the Light either. It's…

"Who are you?"

Whoever the apparition is supposed to be, it un-blurrs before Ben's eyes. It's a man, his height, a mass of dark hair…clad in dark Jedi-esque robes.

The pale face supports a mess of overblown features: a wide mouth, large nose, and bleak, vacant eyes. A scar bisects the right eye down to the collarbone: Rey's scar. The only difference between them is that this other Ben has a short beard and mustache that makes his absurd features look tame and elegant (which, for someone as pathetically self-conscious as Ben, takes a lot to admit).

This other, very _unlike_ version of Ben Solo, meets the real Ben's eyes and confirms: "I'm you."

This is by far the creepiest shit Ben has ever encountered in his life. He's truly stunned, as stunned as when Luke's saber soared past him and into the dirty, smelly, glass-eyed scavenger's hand.

"What?"

This copy of Ben Solo is truly another person: he's, or it's, eerily confident with himself. He's relaxed yet overwhelming the space with his presence. His eyes glitter with delight in his wisdom, and the real Ben, humbled and torn down, is nearing a hunter's trap without being any the wiser.

"Well." The Other Ben tilts his head. "I'm what you could have been."

Ben blinks. "A Jedi?"

"No," the Other Ben adds.

"A…" he wants to say Sith, but that's not it. "…The Supreme Leader?"

The Other Ben scoffs. "No."

Ben huffs and turns to cross the clearing. "I don't have time for this."

"They're alive, I promise," Other Ben says blithely.

Stopping in his tracks, Ben rolls his eyes. "Where?"

Other Ben has found a seat against a slope in the rocks. "I'll tell you when we're done. I promise."

Years of false senses of security over nonlethal words like that make Ben nearly snort. Because _that_ doesn't sound ominous at all. "Are you here to kill me?"

Other Ben does a very Luke-inspired shrug. "I'm surprised you've asked that. Surely you've experienced that this world can do a lot worse to a man?"

Ben shivers at the retort. The storm. The Starkiller beam. Finding Rey. He grimaces. "Why believe the promise of an apparition on a Dark Side planet?"

The Other Ben levels his eyes at Ben and projects a parental calm. "I'm not here to kill you, Ben," the Other Ben says, gently and firmly, a solid rumble. And Ben believes it.

Other Ben's head tilts. "Things aren't going the way you thought they were, are they?"

Ben has no immediate response. What an unbelievably simple question to a complicated situation he is indeed in. He stands there feeling vulnerable with Rey in his arms, like he's in trouble. Like he's a boy with a doll he's afraid will be taken from him. Stupid.

"I…" he realizes he's truly speechless. No one's really talked to him this way, not since childhood; since (he swallows) Snoke's voice first befriended him. He is put on a wire between being at ease and on edge, and the indecision makes his feet wobble against the two.

"You're really not going to kill me."

"I've come here to know what you are," Other Ben corrects. He/it gets up and approaches Ben with hands behind his back. "This planet isn't trying to kill you. It's not even trying to punish you, or drive you to madness. It's trying to bring you back. To the Dark Side. You seem to be resisting."

Resisting. The Dark Side. Hard to imagine, seeing as Ben has been pummeled by it. Though, the Light is closer now, beating its wings against his back as a more central reminder that it's there. Ben thinks he can be proud of this. This is a good thing.

"But the shadow is still there," Other Ben adds, "It will always be there." He continues, much in the way Rey once called "stuffy". "Did you know that on most planets, when the sun is at the highest point in the sky, the shadows it casts are at their most equal in strength? A shadow cannot even exist without the Light. I'm sure the Jedi love to hear that…"

Something in Ben is buzzing, telling him that this is important. He listens. He watches.

"You were always meant to be powerful, Ben, but you were never meant to be perfect. Your path has strayed, but now, there is a balance waiting for you, Ben. Kylo - whatever you decide to call yourself. You're doing well, all but two things."

 _Only two?_ Ben snorts internally. "What are they?"

Other Ben stops in his tracks and speaks words that etch into his skin as a promise. "Don't walk the path of a man ready to die. You've looked down that path so long. Let go of it."

Ben feels a shiver against this chiding. Does this bearded Ben _understand_? "I…I'm trying to."

Other Ben is so close that real Ben is lost in his own large, knowing eyes. Is this what his eyes really look like?

"Because of her," Other Ben says, flat with disapproval. He comes closer, as if he can sense Ben's desire to hide Rey. "Why do you carry her?"

Ben's eyes widen, affronted. "What do you mean, why do I carry her? I have to – "

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do!" Ben's irritation boils. "I have to take her back. I can't leave her behind. You're not _real_ , you wouldn't understand."

"She's dead. What's there to understand?" Other Ben inquires with belittling ease.

"She's – !" She's. She _is_. Not was. "She is mine. She was mine," he breaks, head bowing in embarrassment. The words he struggles to dignify barely form. It hurts too much to write out the truth in his voice. "I…I left her. I lost her. I can't leave her here. She deserves better. Her…her friends need to have her back, even if…"

After a while, other Ben continues. "You didn't lose her. She left you behind. To save the others. And she did it while still attached to you."

Ben growls and turns away. He knows. Of course Rey would do that. Of course.

"It's admirable that you turn your way from the Sith for the bond of one other. But as what? A Jedi? Even a rogue one? Not when your power, your fate, has always been tethered to another's. It can't work like that."

"I don't want – " real Ben snaps, then fails. He is almost, almost ready to say _power_. He knows he did, once. It still courses heavily in his veins. It always does when he swings his saber, when he faces the Resistance even as a potential captive. It's all he's known to want.

But it hasn't felt the same anymore. He can't explain it.

"I don't think I want…power anymore. I don't know what."

"Then what about freedom?" Other Ben challenges. "You've been a slave for so long to Snoke that you tie yourself to the girl as an instinct. You know no other way."

"Because she's the only one who trusted me!"

"You have the entire galaxy to serve, and you'd rather slunk around like some thief?"

Ben sputters counter arguments in false starts. "They'll carry me off to some executioner's block!"

It's a work of magic to see this Other Ben strip the real Ben down in such a patiently disappointing way, a parental show if disgrace in his/its heart, while Kylo Ren had torn ship consoles to pieces to show _his_ disappointment.

"No, they won't. You forget the depth of compassion, Ben. That girl in your hands had every reason to hate you. You tortured her. You kidnapped her. You murdered your father in front of her. You attacked her and slaughtered innocents before. Yet _still_ ," Other Ben's voice softens for real Ben's benefit. "She tried to understand you. She began to know you. Her compassion – while sided with attraction – was unbiased. She fought for _months_ against her feeling for you. She recognizes the change in you, and what that could mean for the fate of the Force."

Other Ben beats the lesson into Ben's wrung head. "You're not giving anyone else the chance to judge you, to forgive you."

"They won't," Ben argues again. It doesn't matter what his little stand in the _Boshtar_ meant, with the crowd of First Order and Resistance alike judging him. He knows the hatred and the pain in their eyes. All trained on him. All those screams, all those deaths…all his fault.

"Then you will at least face them all a free man."

Ben feels empty. If this is all that's left of his life without Rey…what can he ask for? "Is this really my destiny, now? To…to turn myself in?"

"Your life is as the Force wills it. But it's also as _you_ will it."

At some point in his life as a Jedi padawan, Ben Solo must have heard Luke Skywalker say the same thing. But he lets the chill of the doppelganger's words sink in. He will think on them later. Much later.

"I need to find the boy. Where is he?"

"No idea."

"Is he alive?"

"How should I know? I'm just a ghost."

This Other Ben is an asshole. Maybe he is a Jedi, with his mysterious smartass remarks.

"He's a _child_ ," Ben retorts.

"A very powerful one."

Ben grunts. He doesn't care about that. "If he gets left here, he'll barely survive. Or he'll become a victim to the Dark Side," he says pointedly to his alter ego. "Let me take him."

"Fine. Boy went that way." Other Ben points to his left, where a walkway seems to magnetically appear.

Finally. As if to signal that the interaction is over, Ben's arms feel like needles again. He hoists Rey further into his arms, careful not to jostle her too-soft neck around.

"Leave her."

Ben blinks, shocked. He couldn't have heard that right.

But the Other Ben meets his gaze with the same open expression. So open that it must be vacant, for how can anything on this planet, even this reprieve of a spirit, attempt mercy.

The Other Ben dares to sound sorry. "If you want to move on, you need to leave her behind."

Ben is stunned. It's like he's five and has been asked to leave behind his favorite toy. And all at once, that pathetic, inappropriate image laces through Ben's bloodstream, into his brain until he squeezes his eyes shut, a sting that must be willed away.

"But…"

He can't leave her, not this poor, small body behind. Curled so carefully against him, she still looks asleep. He thinks again, after being dragged through the reality of her death, _what if she wakes up?_ . She'll wake up and he'll have left her, here, alone. Again.

Perhaps he can stay with her. It'll be better this way – yes. They'll mourn Rey the Jedi. They'll rejoice at how Kylo Ren truly disappeared. And it'll be fitting, won't it, how he truly handed in his defeat by laying down at her side to expire.

In these shallow, murky thoughts, he feels a peace that betrays his fire of retribution. He can't imagine trudging back to the Falcon. He cant imagine one more job, one more mission, dedicating the rest of his miserable life to care about anything anymore.

But…this is what they talked about. It's what he didn't believe could happen, what she was so sure could. All he could think about - preferred to think about – was killing Snoke. He imagined he would die trying. Ben truly is a coward – he'd rather die fighting Snoke than try to live beyond it, and save the Resistance. Because is all doesn't make sense: Ben Solo coming back from the Dark Side, here to stay on your side. To save the Resistance. To bring the galaxy to peace again.

A beautiful, elaborate lie he couldn't stomach.

Does he have the strength to pursue it? Without her?

His arms are so, so weak. He feels chained to the ground, no matter how badly he wants to keep her.

She'll turn hard; her skin will have no luster, and her face will be a mix of dense shadows. She'll bend to the nature, and rot. She'll return to the earth, and Ben Solo, Finn and the _Falcon_ will try to make their lives without her – their sun keeping them in orbit. She will be wept over, praised, celebrated, whispered, and forgotten.

And Ben will never love again. But what a lonely existence that would be.

She waited for fifteen years to ascend to her destiny. To finally be free. Can he do this?

 _Please help me. Help me, I can't make this decision._

And this is where his heart, shattered and quivering, begins to breathe again. The Light is always so patient and kind. It had never abandoned him; it had just been waiting for him to come home. He knows now, as he lets the Light swirl around and settle, soothe the patches of his torn, shadowy aura, that the Light won't fail him, won't judge him any longer for his crimes.

He was never alone. Even with Rey gone…his sweet, beautiful, strong-willed girl…he will never be alone.

 _Be brave._

Ben looks away and finds a spot; to leave her. She'll be outside. When he kneels to place her down on the ground, he feels his insides plunge further down, leaving him disoriented.

She's wearing so little. It's wrong to look at. She's barefoot, for Force's sake. It's not fair – she deserves the trappings of a queen than this. He could have made Rey a queen of the galaxy, but all she would have wanted was the ocean coast and birds (and his father's stinking ship) for company. Instead Ben shrugs off his cloak and scarf to cover her legs and shoulders.

This will be the last of the few times he's touched her hair (finally seeing how it looks unbound). He's a sick, macabre bastard, but that cannot stop him from lifting each fingertip and knuckle, her temple, forehead, nose, cheek, to kiss.

He can't kiss her on the lips. The last time he did that…was spectacular. Something he should have been doing long ago. He would rather remember that.

As he lays her hands together with the remainder of his tenderness, he looks on her once again for the final time. This is it.

"I love you," he rasps. It's not enough. "I will always love you. I will always carry you. Goodbye."

Getting up is the worst part. His knees refuse to work. He stumbles up to his feet and stores away this image of her body interred in the corner of a cavern. Rey of Jakku, Jedi.

"Don't be scared," she told him. Right before she left him. "I trust you. I trust you – "

He turns away. Against his screaming, door-pounding urge to not, he leaves her behind, and goes through to find the boy.

There is no death, there is the Force. He sets these words to his pace: there is – no death – there is – the Force.


	51. Chapter 51

The Call to the Light

ByTheOneAndOnlySlayer

Chapter 51

Author's Note: Sorry I've been MIA! I've been struggling, lol. I didn't mean to make this story so long and drag you guys, but I promise this story – if not this saga – will be finished.

Ssssssss

"Damn it! Kriff, Joah!"

Lorra is _lost_. Everything in her body is an uncomfortable cocktail of agony and numbness. In the belly of this dark underground, darker than even the damned trafficking ship she was kidnapped to, she thinks this is how people die.

She could have believed she was getting out. Joah, the kid, was holding her hand and leading her out of there, using his Force or whatever. That's what Rey said.

And they _were_ coming back to get Rey. They had to - they were going to make it out of here. It's enough to push her further into the smothering underworld until Joah stops, his hand leashed to Lorra's wrist going slack, and collapses.

 _Maker no, please no_! Lorra's thoughts race as she drops to the ground, _feels around_ for his upper body because it's pitch-ass black.

"Hey, kid, come on, come on honey – !" Lorra mumbles, choking on thin air and whimpers. He's so small and not moving. Like Fordo was, like the others. _Not you, baby boy, not you, you're just a -_

Something…something definitely scuffles. It's behind them, not far. Lorra almost doesn't think it's real – she's scuffing her bare trunks of feet in a _dead woman's_ slippers; couldn't it have been her? And Lorra's so delirious, she could have imagined it.

She drags Joah's body around hers, huddling against him to feel something, as the sounds come closer. Closer, _closer_.

Lorra forgets about the blaster. Her only defense mechanism is closing her eyes and making herself as small and quiet as possible, even though she's sure she's shaking herself until she'll piss.

And them something bleeds into her vision – a cold, bright blue haze. It's so sharp a color, like the sky, that Lorra must have slipped out of consciousness. But the hum of the sound is –

A lightsaber.

She has the blaster out in a fumbled move, arm quivering. "St-t-top!" she moans hoarsely.

"It's all right."

The voice is male. The sound is so bare of feeling that it must be a droid. Her eyes melt at the overwhelming light from the weapon eclipsing it all.

"It's all right," the male says again, adjusting to a warmer (if possible) tone. "You're safe."

"W-what do…" oh, kriff, she can't even talk, she's such a mess. "What do you want?"

The figure that comes out, closer to her, half-extinguishing the saber to reveal his face, is a haunted one that certainly matches his dead voice. The word that struggles to catch up with Lorra's adrenaline-staccato nerves is _phantom_ : deep, endlessly black eyes, sunken in pale skin and a mess of dark hair, like he was born from a place like this. And maybe he was.

Memory washes over her in this ill-placed moment, of how the Mirialan possessed the same eerily calm and collected timbre, a low purr of wintery wind from a distant mountain. This phantom causes the same shiver to run down her spine, and suddenly the cave she's slowly been suffocating from becomes more than a thing that will crush her …like it did Rey. This creature will swallow her up.

But her vision clears, and something uncharacteristically warm laps toward her. It's a gentle tide of reassurance she knows isn't coming from her. Still, she lets it overwhelm her, hungry and tired of this life.

The man holds out an equally white hand, a placating gesture. Almost gentlemanly. His features bend away to something resembling kindness, and pity. "I know who you are. You're Lorra, aren't you. I'm here to rescue you."

This man says these things far too quickly for Lorra to register: she is being saved, and he has come to look for her by name - just like Rey. Why her? Lorra's _one_ person out in the badlands of the galaxy, how could anyone _possibly_ -

"What happened to him?" The man shifts forward, his attention turned to Joah across her lap. He lays the saber down, the play of light so disorienting that Lorra falls back on her haunches.

"He – he just – he fell. I don't know –" her breath hitches, without tears.

The man leans forward and lays his hands on Joah's face, his neck, checking for vitals. Another minute – Lorra shivers at this towering man's proximity, afraid he'll touch her by accident – and he whispers, "Wake up…Joah."

What the kriff? He knows the kid, too?! "How – "

But then Joah's face turns just barely, casting shadows that flutter in the saber's glow. His big, shiny eyes open again, and he just looks at the man.

Lorra chokes back another dry sob. She's not alone now. She's safe, _they're_ safe. They're saved.

Something else is happening, here in the dark. Joah holds the man's gaze with his own for several seconds and, like the Force might be telling him something – he holds out his hands and places his palms on the man's cheeks. It's such a tender, familiar gesture that it robs the two adults of breath.

She thinks that Joah's big eyes, serene and all-knowing, are the most beautiful thing in that cave, until the expression on the man's face slips from clinical to – to –

The man exhales brokenly, lids half-closed in sorrow, looking down at Joah that puts Lorra on the defense.

Instinctively Lorra begins to cradle him back. "How do you know – _wait_." It hits her like a brick wall. "You're – you're the one Rey was calling! She showed Joah, through the Force! You're…are you Ben?"

For a long, silent pause, the man seems to sink further into the ground. He must be Ben, if he looks that hollow.

"Let's get out of here," Ben declares dully. "There's a ship I need to hail – "

"Wait." Lorra allows Ben to adjust Joah in his grip before he stands. "We need – we need to get Rey."

That makes Ben turn to her with a helpless, stunted expression. "I…." But then, in a shade of movement, he becomes cold, hostile. "You left her."

Something hot tingles within her. "What?"

"She – " Ben struggles to speak as well. "You left her. She's _dead_."

"No!" Lorra doesn't believe it for a second. Rey was fine! There's no way Rey's body just gave out in that cave-in. How does this man know?

"No, she – she can't be dead." feeling faint, Lorra closes her eyes. "There was a cave-in. She said help was coming – she told me to keep moving," she explains before guilt leeches her speech. "She's stuck, the cave collapsed – "

"You – " he begins to admonish her, anguish on his tongue, when suddenly he goes still. "What do…" he licks his lips. "What do you mean, the cave _collapsed_?"

Lorra swallows, faint from the thin air. "You didn't see her? She's stuck under a pile of rocks! How do you know…"

"Where did you _leave_ her?" he demands, fist clenching around her bicep. That strange wave of warmth and safety he must have exuded earlier ( _The Force_ , she thinks) billows into something fretful and tight.

And then her mind begins to _ache_. It – squeezes. Her mind is a sponge and memories of the past few – days? Minutes? – drain from her and into his greedy grip. He pours through them, sifting madly to make sense of her words.

… _She's forced to see Rey, that creep Rastro bleeding on them, the ship lurching out of control, the crash – waking up and finding Rey – fleeing the crash site…Joah's mother, barely keeping up…._

… _Joah's mother, lying on the ground, where the cavern began…Joah weeping over her._

… _The monster, bursting through the sand, the first time Lorra sees Rey truly fight in the open._

… _The nightmare hounds, overwhelming them, whipping and darting like darker versions of night. Attacking Rey._

… _The blast in the cave. Pandemonium upending their senses. Being cut away from their only way of rescue; their strongest bet of survival._

… _Rey's last words behind the rubble, after the blast and the unholy rumble that split them apart: "Ben is coming."_

The last of these images slow, stretching out and inspecting every angle. It hurts.

"Ssstop!" she begs.

Joah squirms between them, panicked. He rasps in Huttese while putting his hands on the man's temple.

The man instantly is rendered immobile, eyes closed and gasping as if burned by the boy's little hands. Absently, Lorra is irritated that she doesn't have this magic telekinetic power; she doesn't have a clue what's going on.

Ben rips himself away from them, transformed from a dark cloud of silent, sober misery to alarm. The way he retreats stuns her into thinking she did something wrong.

"I don't - !" he laments, to himself, through clenched teeth. "Why would it show me….?"

He sounds so lost, so agonized. But when he floods her space and grips her arm again, she can detect in his sharpened face something vulnerable like – _hope_. It's as intense as a storm, an electric current.

"I've been seeing things," he whispers to her, the words mad, while his eyes burn, pleading in truth. "I…How do you know, that you're not being tricked, too?"

Lorra stares back, drained. Then she becomes rigid, stubbornly clinging to her own truth. "There was a _cave-in_ ," she repeats, pleading. " _Did you see it_? Did you get through to her?"

"She wasn't…!" the man barks with a jut of his lips. And then all rigidity leaves him, and he leans back, hands digging into his hair and pulling.

When he resurfaces from his torment, his eyes are clear, his mouth set in a tight line. "Can you walk? Show me. Show me where."

Sssssss

They trudge back up where they came. Ben carries the boy in his arms, a small, soft, warm and wriggly little thing. It's his thoughts that are heavier with each beat of his heart.

 _Not possible,_ his thoughts whir in sharp reminder _. This can't be possible! I just talked to a spirit about this._

Rey was… dead. The truth was burned into the shadow of his body where he held her; where he now held this boy who showed him Rey when she was alive. The boy's grasp of the Force ebbed between strong and gentle, like that of an infant's fist around something of fascination, sure and clumsy in such little hands.

Ben felt the space sweep under him as he saw her, his perception of the Jedi mixed with the helpless boy's: she stood taller, a pillar of strength and light and overwhelming goodness.

Ben shivered at the memory. He nearly could have let himself adrift in the boy's sensory transfer.

He could have slapped this girl, Lorra, for denying it all. For stubbornly chirping that Rey was alive, and for leaving her behind in some cave-in. Rey could be suffocating, crushed underneath.

He should have come here sooner. If only he wasn't so weak to have been swayed by a vision, of Rey already dead. Is this even true?! The desperation seeps back into his pores. His lungs feel tight.

Ben nearly stops in his tracks, stunned at the fear that, if this chit of a girl is right – if Rey has been suffocating in some cave-in this whole time, while he sniveled at ghosts -

A quick tug from the little boy holds Ben fast. A reminder: they're on their way. He just has to hold on.

"Down that way," Lorra croaks behind them.

Ben opens his eyes, staring down the narrow opening. What just consumed him - the cold, sick fog of despair – echoes strongly ahead. It's ominous, stronger than where they came from. By reason, they should avoid it.

Rey could be down there. Rey could be alive, down there. His torment may end a few steps beyond this direction. The nightmare, the agony of less than an hour ago, of leaving her body behind, may indeed be nothing.

He almost feels weightless: he doesn't know what to believe anymore, what's real and what's not. He may be stuck in this purgatory forever, but for right now, he thinks he can stomach false hope again.

Behind him, Lorra shivers. "What is that?"

Ben cocks his head. "Something's down there."

Lorra's adrenaline pricks. "Is it a Sithspawn?"

The Dark Side tries to push Ben out. Grimacing, he ducks his head against the echoes. _I'm here_ , he thinks to her. _I'm coming. Please be there._

Already Ben turns to set the boy down and towards Lorra. From his belt he hands Lorra his communicator to the _Falcon_ , with instructions to use it only once they reach the surface – should he be crushed, too. If the Dark Side has been working so hard to hold him hostage, he won't remove these two's chances of escape from Kaidos.

"Stay here," he tells them.

He thinks to ignite Rey's saber again, an absurd idea that her precious weapon will draw her out.

Something truly is down there, and it's not just whispers. It breathes with coiled malice.

His eyes finally catch something: on the ground, bleeding from some rubble, is a sickly green glow; the telltale glow of a lightsaber.

In a snap of movement, Ben reaches out, grasping the stress and fault lines of the half-ruined space: Where can he manipulate the Force, where can he sort through the rubble, set it aside? Rocks and jagged slabs growl in protest, peeling away, first quivering to reflect Ben's too-cautious calculation, then faster and less gainly.

 _I see it, I see you_ – his breathing braces, sure that her image will pop out of nowhere, she'll be fine – she'll be slumped, motionless –

But it's all wrong.

A life-form, half-eclipsed by the green light – It's so large, half-covered in something thick, wrapped around her, _latched_ onto her -

Ben gasps. "Rey – !"

Sssssss

"I won't ever let you go, Rey," her Ben, her dark knight, murmurs into her ear, into her blood.

His hands and mouth clench around her so tightly that she sees stars. _Stars_ , she is being consumed. Oxygen is siphoned out of her like sap, slow and sickly-sweet. It's so thick and oppressive, yet Rey is sure she has never felt so loved and wanted in her life.

She has hugged and been hugged by friends: Finn, Poe, Jess, Leia. Even Luke. She finds she craves it soon after she learns she has people to do it with. This is all-encompassing. She knew, _she knew_ that Ben, her shadow-king, her demon love, would embrace her like this. He holds her like he could feed off her, like he could join them together as one body so they would never have to part again.

She is being dragged into some dreamlike high, she's sure of it. It's her wounds. She's tired. He'll take care of her. Nothing matters. She can rest now.

Until their little pocket of space, all theirs, is being peeled away. She can't see, can only faintly feel, as something cold and violent begins to jerk them apart.

Ssssss

He moves without intent, all instinct. The saber's tempered fire lashes out, an extension of his arm and his terrified fury. He thinks in the split seconds of time that he sees Rey's brown hair, only her hair. Her face is obscured by the serpentine creature.

The thing must be as long as he is tall – hopefully not more. Ben brings the saber down too quickly, slicing the dark thing's skin. It rears its head in a howl: a mouth drips in brilliant fluids and tangled teeth.

It's had its mouth on Rey, and Ben finds himself roaring in return. The saber is ill-matched – he could burn her. He casts out the Force and violently sets to pull the Sithspawn off Rey. He will rip it in two, tendon and bone.

" _Itik niant ji_!" _Get off her!_ he bellows, unthinking of the Sith tongue.

The serpent burrows deep into its own tangle around her, fighting off the Force.

 _I will choke_ you, Ben burns his thoughts forward. _I will rip you to pieces and grind you to dust._

He thinks of the lightning that had sprung, long premature, from his fingers. Dark energy bounces off Ben's power in waves. He feels dulled, underwater.

No use….?

The Light. He must change tactics. The Light swells and beats under his skin, yearning to prove itself to him.

He changes course, lets the Light channel through his veins. It seems to sting the creature, yowling and writhing. The creature is half- pulled off her, drawn tight like a bowstring, until suddenly it lets go and flies into Ben's direction.

The thing splays out – so it _has_ limbs, hidden in the folds of its skin – ready to pounce on Ben mid-flight. His saber is ready to tear it down.

Hot fluid bursts from the saber, from monstrous flesh, dousing Ben's arms. The Sithspawn curdles an awful scream, landing on Ben. The impact nearly knocks him to the ground, but he claws at the thing and wrestles it down. Even half-cut, it's still freakish-strong, wriggling for dominance.

The tail - a tentacle? – squeezes Ben's saber hand away. Hot, rank air moves over him. The Sithspawn must be staring right at him. He tries to spiral his power out, to bind the creature from smothering him, too – Godsdammit, Rey is only a few meters away –

And that's when something hot and loud shoots too close to his face.

"Sorry! I'm sorry!" Lorra quakes.

Doesn't matter, Ben thinks, it's just what he needs. He doubles down on his focus, clearing away the conflict, all that matters is removing this _nuisance_.

 _Let the Light in._

Anger, he knows, will spur him on, will increase his strength tenfold, but it's too much in this storm. He needs something tempered. It's been so long; how to attack while exuding serenity?

He thinks of all the voices, all the cries that will always stir in his head. This he may offer; a sacrifice of sorts. This one speck of Dark Side Energy is one step closer.

 _Help me_ , he pleads, face open with supplication, thrown upward as he braces his arms over the jaw, the neck, anything.

He begs the Light, allowing all of his wounds and sins for examination. _Help me_. _I'm yours again. Let me save her._

The jaw gives out first. The animal's shock is enough time for Ben to inhale, adjust his grip on the neck, and twist one more time.

The Force simmers with relief; it's dead, no more. Ben breathes it in, once, before blinking and crawling over to Rey.

Sssssssssssss

Lorra gasps, grounding herself to the unexpected warmth of the blaster's barrel. She just shot that thing - at her rescuer.

She hears that slimy, squealing thing snap, crunch, and then thankfully the human male breathes heavily. Kriff – is Ben okay?

When she swallows her dry throat and asks, she hears frantic shuffling and his voice, choked yet flat.

"Rey – Rey, can you hear me? Wake up. LORRA."

Shaken at the command, Lorra scrambles forward, knees weak. He takes something from his belt – a torch, and drops it to the ground. Clear light bounces further than the saber, and Lorra recognizes Rey's form: her threadbare clothes, her bare legs and arms (an arm and calf covered in dried blood), and –

Lorra gasps. There are…bumps? Lesions? Neon blue, definitely poisonous. They're along Rey's neck, and when she gets closer, they trail up to her temple. One eye looks madly infected.

She's also _not_ _moving_.

"Shit, is she alive?" she squeaks.

Ben looks stunned in disbelief. Like he can't believe she's right there. He touches her wrist. She thinks his hand is shaking. "Yes. _Yes_ , she's…"

He said earlier he doesn't know what's real. Struck by the need to escape, to leave, Lorra touches Rey. She's cold, dry-skinned, but there, under her fingertips. "Yep, she's real. Let's go, I want to go home, let's go!"

Ssssss

An old Corellian ship purrs above them in minutes. It hovers awkwardly above the bowl-shaped clearing Ben and Lorra came from hours beforehand. Both shudder for different reasons at the area before they rush to the landing ramp.

Lorra can only think, _maybe this is real, too_. All the lights and the sound and the size of this battered junkbucket overwhelm her, in the purgatory of her mind.

Someone eclipsed in light from inside the ship grabs her hand, hauling her in. Already she feels the ground underneath Joah's dead mother's flimsy slippers waver underneath. Maybe it's from the ship, maybe the shock of rescue rendering her limbs numb.

It won't have anything to do with the man's face – a face she has known, but never seen in real life – until later. Much later.

Not when Ben and another man, and several others, crowd and shout over Rey.


End file.
